


Service With a Smile

by AngelicMissPretty



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Creampie, Daddy Kink, Face-Sitting, Fiona and Sasha are terrible friends, First Time Blow Jobs, HEYO THERE'S MORE SIN NOW, Hand Jobs, M/M, NSFW, Nudity, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Rhys has money issues, Rhys is a huge crybaby for some reason now, Rimming, Thumb-sucking, have you noticed my writing is slowly becoming more competent as the chapters go on HA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5102948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicMissPretty/pseuds/AngelicMissPretty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys' plan was simple: graduate college, find himself a rich, handsome business man, and live out his days happily sipping champagne from a diamond-encrusted glass.</p><p>As he sat on a motel's couch eating a microwaved dinner, tangled between two con-artist sisters' feet with nothing other than a college diploma in marketing to his name, Rhys decided that it was time for a new plan.</p><p>If he couldn't be a trophy wife, he could at least be a maid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DID SOMEBODY SAY DOMESTIC SUGAR DADDY AU!?
> 
> ...no? nobody?
> 
> oops.

It wasn’t that big of a deal, really.

Sasha and Fiona did that sort of thing all the time. They were cons; and they’d been at it for a while – they knew what they were doing. They said it themselves: it wasn’t a big deal, and they wouldn’t hook Rhys up with anyone who’d hurt him. Apparently, Vallory’s business was highly elite and respectable, and she’d draw Rhys up a contract with his client in no time; and Rhys would earn a lot of money. He’d be living in some fancy mansion, and it wouldn’t be hard work at all, he’d just be doing a little cleaning around the house; some cooking, some laundry. Nothing big.

Rhys could handle that.

It was the other parts of the job that he wasn’t quite happy about.

Then again, he didn’t really have a choice. Throughout college, he’d barely been able to split his accommodation rent with Vaughn and have enough left over to buy food, and now it was worse. College was over, and Vaughn – the lucky bastard – managed to get an accountancy job at this big, swanky weapons manufacturing company some fifty miles away.

He was living it up in a company-issued apartment, which, if the pictures he’d texted Rhys were anything to go by, was a really nice place. There was a balcony, and the kitchen counter tops were made out of fucking marble. The guy was doing well for himself.

Rhys, on the other hand, who’d gone for a diploma in marketing because, really, mathematics was never his strong point and Vaughn had always been the money man in their little group, was left with a precariously unstable part-time job at a bookstore and a motel room.

And, of course, he had Fiona and Sasha – drop-outs who he and Vaughn had met smoking behind the bleachers in high school. Turns out Rhys and Vaughn’s gym lesson coincided with Fiona and Sasha’s chemistry class.

Strangely enough, the two parties hit it off, and they’d been an inseparable quartet ever since.

The girls paid for the motel room and food and, in return, Rhys went to the grocery store and cooked every night. It was a pretty fun set-up, and the three of them had plenty of laughs there, but it wasn’t what Rhys wanted. He’d always imagined that, after college, he’d be in a townhouse somewhere, on the arm of some rich entrepreneur – not some dingy drug-den on the outskirts of crime-riddled suburbia.

Fate had other plans, it would seem.

Fiona and Sasha always had a steady influx of money coming in, but that money wasn’t exactly legally obtained. They’d do something different every night; gambling, betting, stealing, taking on odd-jobs, but that was never really Rhys’ scene. He stayed out of it the best he could.

That didn’t stop the two girls from pestering Rhys to take on odd-jobs as well. It seemed like tonight was one of those nights where they’d try and harass him into doing something questionable for money.

“Hey, Sash, you remember the other day? Moxxi said she was looking for someone like Rhys,” Fiona remarked casually from her side of the couch, nudging Sasha, “tall, pretty face.” She took a bite of her dinner before addressing Rhys completely, smirking at him, trying her best to make him fall for the con even though he’d seen and rebuffed it a thousand times.

“A lot of people like that spindly, innocent nerd look you got going on.” She said, smirk widening, pulling Sasha into the conversation by nudging her a second time, “Boyish, innit? Cute.”

“Oh, yeah!” Sasha joined in, pointing at Rhys with her plastic spork, “Yeah, totally, I think you should go down there and check it out. It’s real classy, Rhys, and Moxxi was super interested in getting you. You’d make a lotta money, and it’s not hard work. Moxxi’s good to her girls. And, uh, boys.”

Rhys pulled a face and rolled his eyes at them, rejecting their compliments.

“Although that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, guys – and, really, I’m gonna treasure that one forever – I don’t really think I’m stripper material. Nice to know I’m the first thing you guys think of when someone asks you if you know any jailbait looking for a job.”

“For God’s sake, Rhys,” Fiona scowled, annoyed that Rhys had declined another of her job offers, “she wouldn’t make you strip.”

“Yeah,” Sasha said, equally annoyed, digging into her dinner and chewing loudly, “you’d just have to look pretty, sit there, serve the men some drinks, bat your eyelashes. They’d tip you like, fifty dollars for a kiss on the cheek. What’s wrong with that? I think you should go for it. It’d help us out with the rent too, you know?”

“I know, I know.” Rhys said, guilty that he wasn’t pulling his weight with the rent. “I’m sorry, guys, it’s just… I’d feel uncomfortable, you know? If they… ogled me.”

The sisters looked at each other for a second before bursting into hysterics.

“Ogled you!” Fiona repeated, spluttering, barely able to speak in-between her fits of laughter as Sasha rolled her head onto the back of the couch, snorting. “Rhys,” She started up again, wiping a tear from her eye, “I can’t believe you just used the word ogled!”

“Well, you- you know what I mean!”

“Yeah, I know what you mean, it’s just…” Fiona said, calming herself down with another bite of dinner, letting out an exhale as she finished laughing. Sasha stopped laughing not soon after, leaning forwards to grab her drink from the coffee table.

“Say, Rhys,” Fiona began, looking over the couch to Rhys, tone a little more on the serious side, changing the topic, “what makes you so uncomfortable about it? You know, we’re never gonna force you to do anything,” she said, and Rhys smiled at her knowingly, “but damn, this is a good job.”

“You gotta consider it, man.” Sasha added, finished with her drink. “It’s one hell of an opportunity.”

“I just…” Rhys started, gathering his thoughts, “don’t want to put myself on display for that many people. Dressing up, acting all… suggestive. It’s an intimate thing. Besides, I’m…”

“Saving yourself?” Fiona offered, the two girls listening to Rhys intently.

“Pretty much.” Rhys admitted. “And I’m not gonna find the love of my life at some bar.”

“You’re so highly strung, Rhys.” Sasha laughed half-jokingly, finishing off her plate, and Rhys couldn’t help but agree.

There was a brief pause as the three ate and drank in silence, and Rhys pondered whether or not it was just the kind of men that’d go to a place like Moxxi’s that put him off. Rhys looked around, deep in thought, scanning the cheap motel room, contemplating whether or not he was in a position to be so picky about something as trivial as sex. Then again, was sex trivial?

He didn’t know.

The silence – and Rhys’ train of thought – was broken as Sasha sat up fully with a jolt and a huge breath. Her eyes were wide, and she was beaming at the motel room’s two other occupants.

“I just had the most amazing idea!” She nearly shouted, so excited that her hands were balled into fists and it seemed like she was having a hard time stopping herself from bouncing up and down.

“Shoot, tex.” Fiona replied brazenly, knowing that there was only a 50-50 chance that Sasha’s amazing idea was actually amazing.

“Well, okay, so, Fiona,” Sasha rambled on quickly, as if speaking slowly would make her forget the idea, “I have one word for you.” She said, pausing for dramatic effect. “Vallory.”

Of course, that word didn’t mean anything to Rhys, who was sat there, unaffected by Sasha’s big reveal, stopping himself from saying something sarcastic like “that’s not a word, that’s a name”, because, clearly, Sasha was very proud of herself.

Fiona, on the other hand, was staring at Sasha like she was a genius. Her mouth dropped open before her shock curved into a Cheshire-cat grin to match her sister’s, and the two of them turned around to lean over to Rhys.

Something big was about to happen, and Rhys didn’t like it.

“Rhys,” Fiona was the first of the two to speak, standing up and yanking Rhys to his feet too so she could hold onto his shoulders with both hands, “what if I told you that I could get you a maid job?”

“A… a maid job?” Rhys looked at her skeptically, disenchanted with the idea.

“Oh, Rhys, you’re gonna love it,” Sasha said, standing up too, taking a place Fiona’s side so she could grin at Rhys as well, “okay, so imagine this. Just, just play along for a sec, okay?”

She cleared her throat.

“Big home. Mansion. Stately-looking; high class. Majestic. Regal. Somewhere real nice. Countryside. Massive garden. Huge pool. Stone cobbles, flashy cars. Expensive furnishings. Silver cutlery.” Sasha said, and Rhys did his best to follow her instruction and imagine. He wasn’t going to lie to himself, he liked where she was going, managing to get caught up in the dream.

“Some fancy, dignified guy. Nice suit. Philanthropist. Big, bad CEO of some multi-million company. Manly. Proper gentleman. Breadwinner. The provider type, you know?”

Rhys sighed, eyes closed now, caught up in the fantasy. “Mm…”

“You, in a maid outfit, on your knees in front of the guy-”

Rhys’ fantasy grounded to a halt and he nearly choked on the air. “Whoa, whoa, okay, so, I have no idea-let’s not, just, backtrack a second… what?”

Sasha rolled her eyes before looking at Fiona. “I tried. Your turn.” She said to her sister.

“Rhys, I’m not gonna sugar coat it,” Fiona said curtly, looking at Rhys, “but if you’re too much of a prude to work in a night-club and you don’t wanna break the law, this could be a good solution to your… financial issues. I love you, Rhys, we both do,” Sasha gave a nod of understanding, and Fiona continued, “but we all know you’re no grifter.”

Rhys gave Fiona a look of absolute distress, but Fiona kept talking.

“Vallory’s business – hooking millionaires up with playthings – it might suit you. C’mon, Rhys, you’ve been creaming your pants over being some businessman’s trophy wife since high school.”

“I know,” Rhys confessed, “I know, I know, I know, it doesn’t sound terrible.”

Rhys played around with the thought in his head for a while again, weighing up the pros and cons of accepting the sisters’ plan.

“It’d suit you,” Sasha said, leaning her head on Fiona’s shoulder, “snob.” She smirked, and Rhys smiled back.

“Fine.” Rhys said, finality strong in his tone, scared to think about his choice in fear of changing his decision. The sisters looked at each other proudly.

Rhys sighed.

“I’ll do it.”

…

It took Fiona all of three seconds to jump into action, reach for her phone, and ring up Vallory.

Ten minutes later, the three of them were walking to the bus stop.

Another ten minutes later, they were walking down the backstreets of the city center and Sasha was knocking on a rusted, heavy-duty door.

“We brought some fresh meat for Vallory.” Sasha remarked, pointing with her thumb over her shoulder to Rhys, addressing the threatening bouncer who’d come out of the door, and Rhys suddenly felt very, very illegal. A lot of red flags were coming up for Rhys as he looked into the blackness of the building behind the door, listening as blaring music echoed from within, and he had half a mind to run.

What kind of a place did Fiona and Sasha bring him to?

“Ah, yeah, she’s waiting on you.” The bouncer said, recognising the two of them and opening the door almost gentlemanly. Rhys followed Fiona’s every step, ignoring the hungry way the bouncer was looking at him.

Fiona and Sasha led Rhys down an empty corridor as they turned away from the music, and Rhys mentally kicked himself for not realising that they’d just entered a club from the back door. His nerves steadied a little – it was a crowded, well-known place, not some abandoned factory.

Sasha knocked on the second door they’d reached quickly before opening it herself, announcing her presence with a loud “hi!”

“Hello, dears. And, this is Rhys, I suppose?” A mature-looking woman with streaks in her hair and a jagged, off-coloured scar running across her eye was sitting in the room, buried under piles of paperwork, a large bottle of unbranded whiskey next to her. She looked a lot like the leader of a division of the mafia, and Rhys suddenly felt incredibly under-dressed next to her extravagant gold chains and fur coat.

“Now, dears, I’ve got to thank you.” The lady went on to say, looking Rhys up and down. “He is just what I’ve been looking for. I didn't think he'd foot the bill quite as nicely as you described him, but now he's here...”

Vallory trailed off, and finished her sentence with a smile. 

Rhys gulped.

“I told you there’s a demand for nerds.” Fiona whispered into Rhys’ ear, and if he wasn’t so scared of the woman sitting across from them, he probably would’ve made a witty remark to defend himself.

“I’m Vallory, by the way.” The woman said, extending a hand out to Rhys, who took it out of fear of being shot for impoliteness. “It’s very nice to meet you, Rhys. We’ll get your papers all drawn up and you shipped out as soon as we can, how’s that sound?” She asked him, giving him another once-over.

“We’ve got a man named Jack who’s interested in someone like you.” Vallory went on, opening a drawer in her desk and fetching out a black form and a file, reaching for a pen. “Yes, you'll do splendidly. Let’s see here, the requirements he asked for... a feminine, innocent boy with soft features. Submissive, obedient, maybe inexperienced.” She read from the file, her smile not dropping as she did so. “I think you’re perfect.”

There was an eerie silence as Rhys contemplated running for his life.

“What’cha say, Rhys?” Sasha asked, elbowing him in the side, jolting Rhys back to life as she did so. “Ready to get on your knees for some rich old man?”

“Please,” Rhys said, almost begging, looking Sasha straight in the eyes, “please, please, please, don’t say it like that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS TOOK SO LONG AND I'M SORRY
> 
> I've had a really crappy week and I've been super busy ╥﹏╥ but, here it is!! chapter 2!! enjoy <3

To say the situation was unorthodox was an understatement.

It was, without a doubt, the strangest thing that Rhys had ever done. It wasn’t like Rhys didn’t have a vague understanding of why he was there – signing himself up to work for some rich man in return for living in a very nice house and earning a lot of money – it was just that something didn’t feel right; he never imagined that this scenario would play out.

Rhys was meant to fall in love with some wealthy entrepreneur with more money than sense; he wasn’t meant to be his cleaning lady, goddamn it.

Admittedly, Rhys had no idea how exactly Sasha and Fiona had talked him into doing this, but – here he was – sat in some questionably legal club’s back office with a woman who owned some sort of sugaring business, being grilled about his personal life.

Currently, Vallory was giving Rhys what could only be described as some sort of job interview. After asking the sisters to step out of the room for a minute, the older woman had wasted no time in asking Rhys questions that, all things considered, didn’t really matter.

Vallory had asked him for his weight, but she hadn’t even asked for his surname yet; it was weird, and, honestly, Rhys felt like Vallory was sat there – on the other side of her desk, pen in hand, sipping whiskey from the bottle – filling out a form for a product instead of a person.

Once Vallory had finished her interrogation, she’d picked up her phone and made a couple of calls. Of course, Rhys had no idea who any of the people she was talking to were, but he thought he might have heard Vallory call a taxi firm. Again, weird.

There was a pause, and Vallory scraped her chair across the floor to stand up. She shot Rhys a smile, which made Rhys feel more intimidated than anything else, but he managed to smile at the older woman back.

“You two! We’re all finished here.” Vallory shouted, motioning for Fiona and Sasha to re-enter the room. “Come and take Rhys home now. He’s done an excellent job.”

As the door opened and the sisters stepped in, Vallory made her way towards them; leaning in to speak very quietly to Fiona – and Rhys couldn’t even barely make out what the two of them were saying. Sasha noticed Rhys looking over at Vallory and Fiona confusedly, so she made her way over to him, giving Rhys a thumbs-up and placing the other hand on his shoulder.

“So then, Rhys.” She said, drawing Rhys’ attention away from Fiona and Vallory’s conversation. “How’d it go? You happy you got a job? You’re really lucky Vallory found you someone right away. Shit, you’re gonna have to tell your cranky boss at the bookstore you’re leaving. He ain’t gonna be happy with you.”

“Yeah,” Rhys agreed quietly, unable to take all of Sasha’s idle words in, a strange feeling settling in his stomach as he wondered what the hell he’d just done, “that’s not… that’s not at the top of the list of my worries, you know?”

“I feel you.” Sasha nodded, picking up on her friend’s uneasiness, squatting down casually so she could look Rhys in the eye. “You okay?”

“I think.” Rhys offered.

“You gonna miss us?” Sasha asked, punching him lightly on the arm, trying her best to lighten Rhys’ strange mood. “We’re gonna miss you. You’d better phone whenever you can, okay?”

“Course I will, Sasha. I know I didn’t make things easy; what with you guys supporting three people on two salaries.”

“Eh, like it was ever any trouble. It’s just… ah…” Sasha thought for a while, finding the right words. She scratched the back of her head, standing up from her squat. “It’s just, like Fiona said, you’re no grifter. You’re gonna go crazy in that motel room.”

“Yeah.”

Fiona walked away from Vallory not soon after that, pulling Rhys up out of the chair he’d glued himself to and dragging her sister out of the club. Sasha had whined profusely about how the three of them should get drunk and celebrate Rhys’ long-awaited rise to the good life, but Fiona refused – and Rhys was glad. The last thing his stomach needed was alcohol. It was freaking out on its own without the help of the club’s liquor.

When Rhys arrived back at the motel, his skin was crawling with awkwardness and anxiety – he felt as if he’d just sold his soul. Fiona had mentioned to him that Vallory had told her about the arrangements she’d made for Rhys’ new job: apparently, he was going to start work in a couple of days, and he’d be taken to the “man’s house” – a phrase that Rhys found very unsettling – by cab, as it was a good few hours away from the city.

That information didn’t do much for Rhys’ nerves, though.

“Why didn’t Vallory tell me all this, again?” Rhys asked Fiona doubtfully, pacing around the motel room, weighing up mentally the pros and cons of what he’d just done for what seemed to be the hundredth time today.

“Because according to Vallory, you looked like you were going to faint if she told you anything else.” Was Fiona’s curt, and rather uncomforting reply.

The next few days went on as normal for Rhys; but he felt like he was in limbo – halfway between living like a criminal and living like royalty. His mood was flickering back and forth, much to the sisters’ annoyance: one minute Rhys would be bounding up to the two of them and describe how exciting it’ll be when he starts working, wondering dreamily about the life of luxury he’ll be presented with – and the next minute, he’d be fretting sacredly, pacing about the house worrying. Putting it bluntly, Rhys’ emotions were out of control.

The day that a cab arrived outside of the motel in the early hours of the morning, Rhys wasn’t exactly prepared to face what was coming to him. Fiona had relayed onto Rhys that Vallory told her workers not to pack before they were sent off on a job; so Rhys clambered into the taxi with his wallet and phone in his pocket – and that was it.

Sasha and Fiona were leant into the car’s window before it set off, saying their goodbyes to Rhys and reminding him to call them constantly, as if they were his parents – waving him off before a school trip. He half-expected the sisters to hand him a packed lunch.

It wasn’t a bad feeling.

It was just weird.

…

Although Rhys was normally just fine with long car journeys, there was something about this particular ride that made it very hard for Rhys to find something to preoccupy himself with. He had half a mind to start texting Vaughn and tell him about what he was doing; but Rhys didn’t even know how he was supposed to explain something like this to his best friend. Vaughn would probably react terribly, and tell Rhys that his materialistic side was showing way too much and that he was acting like an idiot.

The thought of Vaughn driving down all the way to the motel in his company car just to shout at Fiona and Sasha for encouraging Rhys to do something so covetous made Rhys laugh, just a little. Vaughn never really approved of Rhys’ little fantasies of having some rich guy pamper him.

So, instead, Rhys opted for a “hey”, which Vaughn replied to in a couple of minutes, as he always did. Vaughn asked Rhys if anything was the matter – and, again, Rhys felt the urge to try and explain to him what had been happening in Rhys’ life over the past few days, but the words wouldn’t translate from Rhys’ brain to his fingers. The two shared a meaningless catch-up chat for a little while before Vaughn told Rhys that he was sorry, but he needed to get back to work, and Rhys begrudgingly accepted his apology, locking his phone and opting to look out of the window for a while.

Truth be told, he missed seeing Vaughn a lot. Vaughn’s job seemed to be incredibly hands-on; he’d told Rhys that he was going for a promotion to the head of accountancy since the position opened up a month or so ago – and that would mean that Vaughn would have even less time to spend with Rhys.

Rhys pondered that, after spending so much time with Fiona and Sasha, he’d miss them a lot, too. Although the girls weren’t exactly the nicest pair Rhys had ever come across, they’d treated him like family for a long time; and they always meant well by him, even if their way of life was a little out of Rhys’ comfort zone. There were worse people that Rhys could’ve spent his post-college financial disaster with.

Despite that, Rhys would be lying to himself if he thought that he wasn’t glad to be seeing the back of that awful city he’d been living in since graduating college. It was a cesspool. There were bars and clubs on every street corner – it felt dirty.

Thinking about it with an open mind, Rhys figured that whatever happened at this job, it can’t be as bad as living like a criminal; Rhys deserved to feel fancy for once in his life – and, if Fiona wasn’t lying to him, which he knew she wouldn’t be – Rhys was headed straight for the lap of luxury. A huge part of Rhys felt lucky.

However, a small, niggling part of Rhys in the back of his mind was very unnerved: primarily because Rhys didn’t know exactly what his new job entailed, or what to expect. Rhys was afraid that he’d make a fool out of himself or do something wrong, and then it’d be back to the dingy motel room.

Rhys didn’t want that.

Of course, this wasn’t a new fear that’d cropped up on the ride to his “employer’s” home. Rhys had asked Fiona what to expect – and she’d replied by barely briefing Rhys on what he’d be doing. A lot of her explanation had boiled down to “just do what the man tells you to do” – but that prospect didn’t completely fill Rhys with confidence.

Rhys’ musings were cut short as the cab made a turn down a gorgeous countryside estate. Manors lined the streets of the estate regally, and an air of elegance seemed to wash over Rhys as he gazed at the stately homes on the other side of the car’s window. The wheels turned on expensively-paved gravel as Rhys was driven down past an acre of land – a huge garden lined with flowers and expertly-trimmed hedges.

The car rolled to a stop beside a beautifully crafted fountain, placed directly in-front of the biggest mansion Rhys had ever seen – really, it was more of a freaking castle. A huge, wooden door was set above a stone stairwell leading up to the house, and its walls were lined with elaborate windows.

Quite simply, Rhys was speechless.

The driver rudely motioned to Rhys to get out of the cab, and Rhys did rather gracelessly – stumbling out, not looking where he was going as he stared upwards in awe at the fairy-tale in front of him. The next thing Rhys knew, his cab’s ignition was starting again and the taxi was trundling off down the long path back onto the estate, leaving Rhys alone in the middle of a billionaire’s garden, nothing but the sound of the fountain’s water sprinkling into the pool beneath it.

It was at this point that Rhys realised he didn’t know what to do.

Of course, that was the same moment that the grand doors of the manor opened, and a man – tall, broad, slicked back hair, wearing a barely-buttoned shirt and jeans and undoubtedly, devilishly handsome – stepped out with his arms open, a huge smile on his face, softening his angular features just a little. Rhys’ eyes met a mix of shocking blue and green as the man made his way down the stone steps, to the yard where Rhys was stood.

“Hey there, sweetness!” The man said in a loud, self-assured voice as he approached Rhys confidently, grabbing Rhys’ hand with his own much larger one and pulling it up to meet his lips gentlemanly. “Enchanté.”

“I…” Rhys stifled, feeling his face turn red as he watched the man kiss his hand, trying desperately not to make a fool of himself and think of something intelligent, or witty, or charming to say.

Rhys never really was very good at introductions.

“Hi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more to come soon! (don't worry, the plot's gonna actually start next chapter HAH)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! This chapter is a little longer than the others!! (●⌒∇⌒●)
> 
> All of your lovely comments, bookmarks and kudos are completely amazing, and I love you all!!!!! <3
> 
> (yoooo this chapter is NSFW and unbeta'd!!)

Rhys felt his mind shut down as he stared, fixated on the man in front of him, who had an amused look on his face in response to the younger male’s wimpy excuse for a greeting. Rhys tried to offer something more… well thought-out in return, but his mind was blank.

The next thing Rhys knew, he was being guided through the lavish mansion with a hand on the small of his back, ushering him up an exquisitely-carpeted staircase and into a room with a giant window (which, Rhys supposed, would be better described as a wall of glass) overlooking the vast expanse of the manor’s garden, which was a glowing cornucopia of neatly-trimmed grass and flowers lined in intricate patterns. Rhys was glued to the ground in awe with the handsome stranger’s hand on his back, trying his best to steady his breath as he looked around the gigantic room he’d somehow allowed himself to be escorted to. It seemed to be an office of some sort – bookcases and filing cabinets lined the ornate walls of the room, and a raised area adjacent to the window housed a lone desk, a huge, imposing yellow chair situated behind it like a throne.

The brunette felt himself jolt as the hand left his back and the man took a few steps backwards to close the door to the office. Rhys watched the man as he circled him; looking pleased with himself.

“Yeah…” The man said, his eyes tracing Rhys’ body, not exactly addressing the younger man as he spoke, thinking out loud. “You’ll do just fine.” He said, eyes connecting with Rhys’ own, and Rhys felt like he was going to melt as the man’s smile grew wider, drawing out a hand to cup Rhys’ chin and move his face from side-to-side, gripping Rhys’ jaw.

It felt like _another_ job interview, but this was about thirty times worse. _This_ was the kind of ogling that Rhys had wanted to _avoid_.

“Hey. Babe.” The man suddenly broke through Rhys’ thoughts, pulling his hand away from Rhys’ chin to snap his fingers obnoxiously in front of Rhys’ eyes. “I know I’m pretty breath-taking, but really, don’t you have anything to say?”

“Um,” Rhys spluttered on reflex out of fear of being rude. “M-my name is Rhys.”

“Well, m-my name’s Jack.” The man said, mocking Rhys’ stuttering and smiling as he did so. Something within Rhys found Jack’s joking strangely comforting. He offered Jack a bashful smile in return. “But, ah,” Jack went on, amused by Rhys’ reaction, “a lot'a people know me as Handsome Jack.”

Jack turned around to start walking towards his desk at the far end of the room, and Rhys couldn’t help but follow him obediently, the heels of his boots clicking against the wooden flooring of the office as he struggled to catch up to Jack’s wide strides. Jack sat down on the yellow chair, and Rhys waited impatiently as he dug around in the desk’s drawers for something.

As he waited, Rhys idly wondered how exactly the man – Jack – had earned his nickname. Then again, Jack was _very_ handsome.

“I’m really happy to be working for you, sir.” Rhys managed to say without stuttering as he tried to break the silence that Jack’s search had caused, and Jack leaned up from his position bent underneath the desk, holding something black and silky. His expression had soured a little as he looked at Rhys, as if he was about to scold him.

“For starters, cut the ‘sir’ crap. Reminds me of the idiots at work, okay, kiddo? Jack’ll do for now.”

Rhys let out a shaky breath as he straightened, somehow mortified with himself for making a mistake. Jack, on the other hand, quirked an eyebrow, expecting some sort of reply out of Rhys.

“I’m sorry, Jack.” Rhys managed to choke out, unable to stop the way his voice broke in the middle of the sentence.

“Don’t worry about it, sugar.” The older man said as he stood up and made his way around the desk to Rhys, holding out the silky fabric in his hand. It took Rhys a few seconds to catch on that Jack wanted Rhys to take the object instead of standing there in awe – but Rhys couldn’t stop the feeling of his legs turning to jelly every time Jack so much as looked at him.

Rhys stared at the older man for a second, feeling the butterflies in his stomach at the close proximity Jack had created. Rhys couldn’t blame himself for feeling this way – Jack was every fantasy Rhys ever had and more: strong, hot, intimidating, and rich as _fuck_.

However, Rhys’ crush-induced high came crashing back to the ground when he took the material from Jack’s hand. A pair of stockings and some lacy underwear fell unceremoniously to the floor as Rhys unfolded the fabric, holding it out in front of himself.

Rhys’ mouth hung open as he came to the shocking realisation that he was holding a goddamned _dress_ – and not just any dress.

Jack had just handed him a _maid outfit_.

The skimpy piece of material looked like it’d hang around Rhys’ _thighs_. It was a lacy, scanty dress, adorned in white lace and ribbons, a single white band going around the waist attached to a lacy apron that Rhys couldn’t help but think served _no purpose at all_. There was a criss-cross design on the torso, which Rhys could only describe as a _corset_.

Why, why, _why_ was the thought of wearing this appealing to Rhys?

“Go ahead, try it on.” Jack whispered to him, leaning back against the desk.

Rhys couldn’t find it in himself to say no.

Peeling off his clothing in front of a stranger seemed wrong to Rhys, but something about doing it in front of Jack didn’t seem dangerous or sleazy; especially as Jack watched patiently from his space a few feet away, not making any movements to grab at Rhys, his eyes carefully scanning every new inch of skin that Rhys revealed; and Rhys revealedkeenly, fuelled with newfound adventurousness.

Rhys reddened as he realised that the only article of clothing he had left on him were his boxers, and he refused to make eye contact with Jack as he hooked his fingers around the waistband of them, his sudden surge of self-confidence dropping to zero as they fell to the floor. Nobody had ever seen Rhys naked before, and the young man had no idea how to react.

He heard Jack take a step forward.

Rhys crossed his thighs in a vague attempt to save his decency as he reached for the panties on the floor, pulling them up over his legs quickly before grabbing the dress and shoving it over his head. Rhys pulled the fishnet stockings over his legs as well, the cold air of the office snapping at his skin.

“Hey.” Jack said, and Rhys jumped away from the hand that clasped on his shoulder. “You alright there, cupcake? You look good. Real good. You shy or something, kitten?”

Jack put his hand on Rhys’ shoulder again, more gentle this time, rubbing circles into it comfortingly. Rhys reveled in Jack’s praise, leaning in to the touch, finally able to meet Jack’s eyes again.

“Sorry, Jack.” He muttered, rubbing his eyes, Jack’s presence somehow filling him with confidence again.

“Nah, don’t be, babe.” Jack smirked at him again, drawing his hand away and walking past Rhys, something off about his words.

Rhys wasn’t expecting Jack to circle him and slap his ass forcefully, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. Rhys fell to his knees as a high-pitched, primal whine escaped him, the sting sending shivers up his spine as Jack walked in front of him again, bending down to cup Rhys’ chin with his hand.

“Let’s not make shyness a regular occurrence, hm? Otherwise, I’m gonna have to smack you a lot harder than that. You understand, Rhysie?” The older man spoke lowly, menacingly, and Rhys bit his lip, looking up at Jack, terror mixed with something else fogging up his widened eyes.

“I understand, Jack, I s-swear!” Rhys spoke as clearly as he could, trying desperately to apologise to the older man, a thousand emotions swirling in his gut painfully as he searched for Jack’s forgiveness.

“You gonna be a good boy?” Was Jack’s reply, his grip lessening, eyes fixated on Rhys, his anger simmering down to something more along the lines of menacing amusement.

“Yes, Jack, I’ll be good!” Rhys said, and Jack drew his hand away completely, standing up fully to tower over Rhys’ shaky form. Half of Rhys wished that Jack’s hand would come back again, weakly holding his hands out to grasp at Jack’s jeans, looking up at the older man with mixed emotions.

This was like _nothing_ Rhys had ever experienced before.

Jack looked down at Rhys in return and opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off by a comm ringing at his desk. He walked away from Rhys, and Rhys scrambled up to follow him indignantly, waiting as Jack spoke at the person on the other end of the line. Rhys rubbed the tears that’d formed at his eyes away, and the mood shifted instantly.

“What now?” Jack said irritably, checking his watch before carding his fingers through his hair. Rhys watched as Jack’s demeanor changed drastically, the younger man trying to piece together the subject of Jack’s conversation.

“Look, I’m _busy_.”

A pause.

“Well then, just send Hammerlock.”

Another pause.

“I don’t care if _she’s_ busy, _I’m_ busy!”

 _Another_ pause.

“Do I _sound_ like I give a rat’s ass about Atlas right now!?”

Rhys took it upon himself to sit on the edge of Jack’s desk as Jack paced around it, fuming, throwing himself into the chair as his anger grew. Rhys involuntarily gasped as the mark on his behind ached painfully as his skin connected with the wood of the desk.

Rhys opted to stand and wait for Jack’s call to finish instead.

“So you’re telling me you _pissbaby idiots_ need me to come _back into work_ and hold your _fucking hands_ while you try not to _screw up_ a meeting with Atlas? That’s what you’re telling me?!”

Jack hung up after a second and threw his comm down on the desk, real anger bubbling up underneath the surface of his frustration. Jack took a moment to exhale loudly, collecting a file from a drawer in his desk before standing up.

Rhys was stood there in silent confusion as Jack walked straight past him, and, again, Rhys was left to follow on Jack’s heels. Rhys mumbled something inaudible as they reached the office’s door, but it managed to snap Jack’s attention back onto him.

“Jack’s sorry, cupcake, but he’s gotta go back to work. Those morons can’t handle themselves when I’m not there, you know.” Jack explained, opening the door and walking down the hallway with Rhys behind him.

“How long are you gonna be gone?” Rhys asked, waiting at the top of the stairs as he watched Jack step down them quickly, unhappy about the prospect of Jack going so soon.

“Eh,” Jack paused in the middle of the staircase, motioning for Rhys to follow him, “an hour tops. I’m not staying in that shithole any longer than I have to. You might as well try getting to know the place while I’m gone, sweetheart.” Jack carried on, reaching the end of the staircase, collecting one set of the many car keys adorning a table next to the front door.

“Angel!” Jack suddenly screamed up the stairs, and Rhys took a few steps backwards in surprise at the sudden outburst. The two men waited in silence for a short while before an equally-loud, equally-annoyed voice shouted back in reply.

“What, Pops?!” Came a girl’s voice from beyond the walls of the mansion, and Rhys’ face contorted into shock.

Surely, Jack couldn’t be living in this huge mansion _alone_?

Then again, what else was Rhys supposed to assume?

“I’m goin’ to work! Show Rhys around!” Jack replied, bellowing up the stairs. Rhys heard a door opening, and the girl’s voice grew louder.

“Fucktoy’s got a name, huh?” She screamed sarcastically, footsteps growing closer to the top of the stairs.

“Don’t be a little shit, Angel!” Jack retorted, opening the front door and taking a step out. Rhys held the door open before Jack could close it, shooting the older man a look of absolute helplessness. Jack shrugged, mumbling something along the lines of “don’t worry about her, she’s just in a bad mood – I’m sure she’ll be nice” before closing the door.

Rhys’ immediate response was to dive at the doorknob and try to pry it open so he could run after Jack and beg for a better explanation of what was happening than he’d given, but the brunette was stopped in his tracks as he heard someone clear their throat behind him.

When he turned around, he was met with the sight of a teenage girl, clearly-dyed black hair styled over one of her eyes, dressed in a check-red hoodie, black skinny jeans and studded sneakers. She had her hands in her pockets and was chewing on gum, looking down on Rhys from her spot at the top of the stairs, looking him up and down nonchalantly.

Out of reflex, Rhys pulled his dress down.

She snorted as he did so, coolly leaning against the stair’s railing before kicking off so she could slide down it, stopping herself in front of Rhys with a squeak of her sneakers against the hardwood flooring to scrutinize him even more, taking her hands out of her pockets to put another piece of gum in her mouth.

“So, fucktoy,” she regarded him amusedly – strikingly similar to the way Jack did – “you want the tour? Name’s Angel, by the way. Your, uh… ‘employer’s’ daughter.” She mocked, raising air-quotes to the side of her head as she did so.

Rhys gulped, with absolutely no idea how to respond, and Angel took his reaction as a ‘yes’. She started walking, and Rhys wasn’t exactly surprised that Jack’s daughter had the same magnetic impulse on him that Jack did as he followed her through an arched walkway to what seemed to be a dining room.

Rhys spent the rest of Angel’s tour quietly trying to memorise what was on each floor of the mansion. So far, he’d managed to remember that the first floor was taken up mostly by Jack’s office (where a rather embarrassing scene unfolded for Rhys as the two stepped in to find his clothes still laying in a pile on the floor, which Angel had reacted to by closing the office and bursting into hysterics), a library and a conference room.

The second floor was comprised of Angel’s bedroom (which Angel had told Rhys was off-limits, and Rhys accepted respectfully) and Jack’s bedroom, which Angel was annoyed to find had been locked.

Finally, the third floor was somewhat of a bachelor pad; there was a bar, a pool table and a jukebox, alongside a huge TV connected to about twelve different game consoles and a purple bean-bag (a setup which Rhys presumed belonged to Angel).

Angel finished her tour by bringing Rhys into a conservatory overlooking the garden. She’d offered Rhys a tour of that, but Rhys had declined, mindful that the only thing on his feet were stockings.

“I can’t believe Pops has you wearing that thing, by the way.” Angel said casually, laughing lightly as she led Rhys back through the kitchen. “I can see your butt. Nice hand-print, by the way.”

“Oh God,” Rhys laughed along with her, no longer feeling the need to pull the dress down as it’d just ride back up his hips anyway, “I know, it’s so embarrassing. I have _no clue_ what I’m doing.”

“Word of warning, by the way, my pops is absolutely fucking _crazy_.” Angel shrugged, opening a door to the right which Rhys hadn’t been inside of yet, and Rhys felt the need to pry into Angel’s nonchalant claim.

“I mean,” she continued, “who the fuck in their right mind _buys a person?_ ”

It took Rhys all of three seconds to realise that Angel was talking about _him_. She slumped down onto the room’s couch, reaching for a TV remote, motioning it towards Rhys as a silent question, asking if he’d like to choose the channel. He opened his mouth to decline, but he was stopped as a loud chime echoed throughout the room.

For the second time that day, Rhys’ conversation was cut off by a phone call. Angel grabbed her phone from the confines of her pockets, unlocking it and bringing it up to her ear.

“Hey, what’s up?” Angel spoke down her cellphone cheerfully, getting up from the couch again and walking past Rhys. Despite the fact that whoever she was talking to – a friend, probably – was speaking down the line at Angel, she took the phone away from her ear to tell Rhys that she was going upstairs, leaving Rhys alone.

As if on cue, Jack barged back into the house, muttering curses, throwing his car keys against the table carelessly. Rhys heard the front door slam and poked his head out of the living room, catching Jack’s attention – and his expression immediately softened upon seeing Rhys, twisting into something more mischievous than fury.

“Well, hello there, kitten. I’m _so_ glad to see you.” Jack purred, making his way towards the younger male, and Rhys couldn’t help but smile in Jack’s presence, unable to pick up on the venom in Jack’s words, eager to speak to him again.

“Hi, again!” Rhys said cheerfully, toying with the lace on the hem of his skirt as Jack advanced on him.

Once again, Jack did something incredibly unexpected. It happened in an instant - so quickly that Rhys had barely finished his quick greeting.

Jack didn't say hello back.

The older man shoved Rhys into the living room, earning a gasp from Rhys as he shut the door forcefully and snaked his hand around Rhys’ waist, pushing Rhys forwards into him. Jack’s other hand reached upwards to grab at Rhys’ hair, and Rhys had to crane his head backwards as Jack pulled, his thighs spreading around Jack’s hips.

Rhys bit back a moan as he felt Jack’s hardness press against his crotch, his mind scattered. Rhys had never experienced someone _pressing up against him_ like this before, and he had no idea what to do – but his body involuntarily ground his hips upwards to meet Jack’s, shocked into submission by the new stimulation.

Jack let go of Rhys’ waist, opting to stroke over the back of the younger man’s head and guide Rhys over to the couch by the back of his neck, leading Rhys down onto his knees. Jack sat down, legs on either side of Rhys’ head, and Jack instructed Rhys to take his belt off.

Rhys reached towards Jack’s hips, surprised by his own impulsiveness, acting solely on desire. He unbuckled Jack’s leather belt, setting it aside and watching with his mouth open as Jack unzipped his jeans, reaching under his boxers for his erection, stroking it as Rhys made loud noises of arousal.

“God, those idiots make me angry.” Jack said, dragging his pants down so he could free himself from underneath his clothing, pressing his thumb against the head of his dick as he looked down at Rhys, who was breathing deeply, messily palming himself beneath the dress and blushing unashamedly at the size of the older man’s cock.

“At least now I’ve got you to come back to every day, right, princess?” Jack praised, touching Rhys’ face with his free hand, and Rhys leaned obediently into his touch, rubbing his own erection carelessly. Rhys closed his eyes as he held onto Jack’s wrist, leaning in Jack’s touch as he nodded his head in agreement.

“You gonna put daddy’s big dick in your mouth, little boy?”

Rhys failed to stifle the huge moan that Jack drew out of him, and Rhys suddenly felt needy as hell. Jack’s words pushed buttons Rhys didn’t even know he had, and he eagerly nodded his head again, whining carelessly at the older man.

Jack dragged Rhys forwards by his hair and planted Rhys directly in front of his erection, Rhys having to steady himself with both hands on Jack’s hips, his crotch now rubbing shamelessly against the bottom of the couch.

In any other state of mind, Rhys would’ve realised that he had absolutely no idea what he was about to do; he’d never sucked anyone off before, but Rhys was so desperately eager to please Jack that he lost all sense of reason.

Rhys moved his tongue lazily against Jack’s shaft, licking upwards and putting his mouth around the tip, sucking loudly on the head of Jack’s dick. Rhys figured that he must’ve been doing something right as Jack began to run his hands through Rhys’ hair appreciatively. The brunette felt a little more adventurous as he dipped his head down to suck on more of Jack’s cock, drawing his hand to stroke over the rest of the base that Rhys couldn’t fit in his mouth.

Rhys’ confidence grew as he heard Jack moan, discovering that it felt good to thrust against the couch as he bobbed his head up and down Jack’s erection.

“You’re so cute, little boy.” Jack spoke approvingly, watching as Rhys tried his best to suck on his dick. “You’re so gorgeous. Especially like this.”

Rhys hummed at Jack, working up and down a little faster, swirling his tongue around Jack’s tip to lap up the leaking precum. Jack felt close, intensely enjoying the sloppiness of Rhys’ eagerness, thrusting upwards slightly into the warmth of Rhys’ mouth. He quickened his pace as he felt himself come undone, grabbing onto Rhys’ hair more forcefully and taking control.

“My little princess looks so good when he’s sucking daddy’s cock.” Jack said, thrusting back and forth into Rhys, laughing as the brunette tried to reply even though his mouth was full. Rhys latched onto Jack’s hip with one hand, bringing the other back down to palm himself through the dress again as Jack came. Rhys tried his best to swallow all of Jack’s cum as he came as well, Rhys’ own cum leaking through the useless lace panties.

Rhys let Jack’s dick fall out of his mouth, cum dribbling across his face as he looked up at Jack tiredly, resting his face against Jack’s thigh, letting his eyes drift shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (psst... ☆～（ゝ。∂） I worked out that there's gonna be about 8 chapters to this...)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH DAYUM! (⁎˃ᆺ˂) This chapter took for-ev-er. Thank you guys so much for waiting so patiently (ू˃̣̣̣̣̣̣︿˂̣̣̣̣̣̣ ू) you're super crazy awesome for putting up with me <3

Rhys felt sleepy and satisfied as he clung to Jack’s leg, half-laid over the expensive couch with stars in his eyes. Everything felt _heavy_ , but it was a _good kind_ of heavy, and Rhys was contented to the point where he couldn’t help the lazy smile that spread across his features. It was a blur – drunken on lust – but the memory of closing his eyes a second time and dozing off to sleep as he was carried up the stairs and placed somewhere soft and silky wasn’t fogged to the point of forgetting.

…

For the first time in his life, Rhys had woken up in a bed that wasn’t his own. Not that he was complaining; this bed was the comfiest thing he’d ever had the luxury of sleeping in – it was cushy and supportive in all the right places, and the sheets felt like real velvet. Before he even opened his eyes, Rhys breathed in to smell a mixture of cigarette smoke and expensive aftershave, and he revelled in it, writhing around in the mess of covers around him, gripping onto the comfortable, feathery pillows behind his head.

Of course, Rhys’ trance was broken the second he unfurled from his tucked-in position stretched outwards and his legs hit a _person_ who’d been sitting on the far end of the bed, which earned a gruff sound of pain and annoyance from the man. Rhys felt his leg being shoved to the side.

Oh, that’s right.

“Jack!” Rhys shouted on reflex, whipping his body upwards to apologise for kicking the body in front of him, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands and untangling himself from the bed before even looking at Jack properly. Rhys finished rubbing his eyes and blinked a few times through the dim sunlight filtering through the windows as he looked around a room about as regal-looking as the rest of the mansion and saw Jack, who was slowly rubbing the side of his thigh were Rhys had kicked him, dressed in slacks and an unbuttoned shirt. There was a tie hanging from Jack’s collar, so Rhys’ immediate thought was that Jack was getting ready for work.

“I didn’t mean to kick you…” Rhys spoke, unable to stop how guilty he felt as he scrambled out of the covers entirely to sit next to Jack.

“Aw, pumpkin,” the older man said slowly as he brought the hand on his thigh up to Rhys’ hair to stroke it, “how can I stay mad at that face, hm?”

Jack’s praise washed over Rhys and he felt blissful, pouting as Jack took his hand away from his head to continue getting ready. The younger male watched the other silently, looking down to see that an oversized, yellow jumper had replaced the dress he’d been wearing the previous day. He pulled at it a little, somewhat relieved to see that it covered a lot more than the dress had done – length-wise included. Rhys didn’t stop playing with the jumper until Jack put a hand around his shoulders, drawing Rhys into his side.

“Hey, babe, can I ask you a question?” Jack asked politely as he rubbed circles into Rhys’ shoulders, and despite the uncharacteristic innocence in Jack’s voice, Rhys allowed himself to settle comfortably.

“Fire away.” Rhys answered contentedly, smiling as Jack held him close.

“Well,” Jack breathed out, playful amusement creeping back up into his tone, “what kind of a goddamned _teenager_ falls asleep after a blowie? What are you, Rhysie? A virgin?” He said, and his laughter erupted throughout the room, pushing Rhys away so he could hold his stomach as the giggles turned into hysterics.

Rhys’ smile dropped like a tonne of bricks.

As Jack’s laughter quietened down, he turned to look at Rhys.

“Oh, god, you’re _not_ , are you?”

…

As could be expected, Rhys had dodged the question awkwardly by asking Jack if it was _that_ obvious, which Jack had replied to with laughter and “yeah, but it’s cute”; so Rhys’ nerves were only _slightly_ on edge at that point. Jack was hastened to add that Rhys’ “really fucking sloppy blowjob” was also “really cute”, but Rhys’ immediate thought was that the point of a blowjob wasn’t to be _cute_.

Maybe Rhys needed to work on the whole _sexy maid_ thing.

Once Jack had finished getting dressed for work, he’d kissed Rhys on the forehead – a simple act which made Rhys blush _so much harder_ than he’d been ready for – and walked downstairs before driving away as he did the previous evening. Rhys, on the other hand, had made his way downstairs to find Angel finishing a bowl of cereal and throwing it into the sink – which, Rhys noted, was _full_ of dishes – before she, too, said goodbye to him and walked out of the door to go to school.

It was at that point that Rhys realised he had _no clue what to do_.

So, naturally, Rhys made his way to the living room and watched TV for an hour or so. Then, after realising that his legs were incredibly cold due to the fact that he was only wearing a jumper, Rhys set himself the mission of trying to figure out how to work the house’s thermostat before giving up after fifteen minutes of playing about with a boiler that looked like it was worth more than everything Rhys had ever owned. After that, Rhys decided that it would be a much better option to try and find some warmer clothes rather than mess about with Jack’s heating system.

Unluckily for Rhys, it seemed that every pair of pants Jack owned didn’t fit him _at all_. Rhys had considered to go and find something of Angel’s to wear, but she’d made him promise not to go in her room, and Rhys didn’t feel like getting on the bad side of his ‘employer’s’ daughter. Rhys thought that maybe he’d figured out the solution to all of his problems when he came across a laundry basket in the bathroom, but the articles of clothing in the basket didn’t seem to have been washed for a good few months, and Rhys really, _really_ didn’t feel like tackling Jack and Angel’s dirty washing in search for something to wear.

In the end, Rhys opted for another hour of some Netflix show underneath Jack’s quilt, which was worth the effort of hauling it downstairs. However, Rhys was never really the type of person to marathon movies or programmes – he didn’t have the attention span for it – not like Vaughn and Sasha, who would, in high school, dedicate entire _weekends_ to finishing their latest obsession (which was, more often than not, some action sci-fi thriller with seventeen seasons that took a steady, non-stop hundred hours to complete).

Hell, even Fiona was better at sitting around and doing nothing than Rhys.

Exhaling slowly as he turned off the TV, getting out from the cocoon he’d made for himself in Jack’s quilt, Rhys decided that the best way to spend his time would probably be to clean up the mess that Angel had made around the sink.

Upon closer inspection, Rhys realised that the likelihood of Jack _buying_ more dishes rather than cleaning the ones he already had was incredibly high; the brunette had no idea how he hadn’t noticed the extent of the mess earlier, but _damn_ , the sink looked about as untouched as the laundry basket.

Finding cleaning supplies had been a hard task. Rhys noted, for future reference, that he should ask Jack to buy a pair of rubber gloves, because for the life of him, Rhys couldn’t find any. However, Rhys was slightly luckier in finding some dishwashing liquid, a sponge and a dish towel, so he set to work.

In the motel room, it was an unspoken rule that Rhys did all of the domestic jobs. Sasha and Fiona were always too busy earning money, and Rhys knew that if _he_ didn’t clean up around their home, _nobody_ would. Therefore, in addition to going to the store to buy groceries and cooking every night, Rhys would take it upon himself to do the dishes, and dust, and iron, and tidy, despite the sisters’ claims that cleaning didn’t matter.

Maybe Rhys’ new job suited him more than he thought.

He’d only been away from the sisters for a little more than a day, but Rhys missed their loudness, and their ability to cheer Rhys up whenever he felt down. Rhys knew that Fiona would know _exactly what to do_ in this situation – because she _always_ knew what to do – but Rhys, on the other hand, was stood there in an oversized sweater washing dishes with no gloves on.

It was at that moment when Rhys was hit with the _ingenious_ idea to call Fiona; surely, his phone would still be in his pockets in Jack’s office – along with his _clothes_.

Rhys mentally slapped himself for not realising that he could’ve gotten dressed into _those_ instead of searching around the entire house for something to wear, so he made his way away from the finished dishes and upstairs into Jack’s office, to find that the floor was _empty_ , and his clothes – his phone included – were nowhere to be seen.

 _Great_.

The only real place to look in the office was Jack’s desk, but something about snooping around in there seemed _wrong_ to Rhys. However, his curiosity got the better of him and he made his way across the large expanse of the room to crouch in front of the desk and open up one of the drawers there.

A pen, a calculator, a file – which, despite the huge _CONFIDENTIAL_ mark on top of it screaming to be opened, Rhys didn’t – and a pack of gum.

Rhys opened another one.

A box of tissues and some lotion. _Oh_.

Rhys closed the drawer.

After a minute or so of searching around, Rhys finally managed to find his cell and clothes, which had been thrown lazily into one of the top drawers. Opting first to pull himself into his slacks, which had been crumpled up since Jack didn’t have the curtesy to fold them before putting them away, Rhys was glad to see that his phone still had a little charge left.

There were a couple of messages, all not particularly important. Instead of answering them, Rhys made his way to dial Fiona and ring her. Fiona didn’t take two seconds to pick up as she shouted down the line over blaring music.

“Yo, Rhys!” She nearly shouted, and Rhys couldn’t help himself from smiling as he slid onto the edge of the desk and dangled his legs. “I’m sorry, it’s an important call.” She said to someone on the other end of the line.

“An important call? Who’re you talking to?” Rhys said to her pressingly, hoping that Fiona would hear him over whatever was happening in the background. “Where are you?”

“Give me a minute!” She spoke to Rhys in a hushed tone. “I’ll just be a moment, gentlemen.” She said to someone else, and Rhys heard a chair scrape across the floor as Fiona walked away from whatever was happening and stepped into a room.

“Rhys, you got such bad timing!” Fiona said before pausing. “On second thoughts, actually, don’t worry about it.”

“You wanna tell me what’s happening, or…?” Rhys questioned.

“Oh, me and Sash are trying to score a deal with some business guys. They offered to take us out to this fancy-ass restaurant, and it’s boring as fuck. Not so different from you, eh?”

Rhys tutted, but Fiona carried on. _Of course_ the sisters were doing something _questionable_.

“How’s everything going? Oh my God, you have to tell me what it’s like. How come you haven’t called yet? Sasha keeps betting he’s got you wearing a dress. Are you wearing a dress? Please tell me you aren’t, or I’m down $10. I can’t believe I’m asking you what you’re wearing in a goddamned restaurant bathroom at four in the afternoon. C’est la vie, eh?”

Rhys laughed at the bombardment of questions before sighing and realising he probably shouldn’t give Fiona the gory details of his stay at Handsome Jack’s manor.

“Yeah, everything’s fine, just doing some stuff around the house.” Rhys said as casually as he could without making the scenario sound as weird as it actually was. “To be honest, it’s not that eventful; the guy’s normally at work. And don’t worry, I’m not wearing a dress right now.”

“Right now?” Fiona asked incredulously, and she seemed to spit a little of whatever drink she’d been sipping on.

“Don’t ask. Just, tell Sasha you won the bet.” Rhys answered, and Fiona decided not to press further in favour of earning herself $10. “Did you… did you bring your drink into the bathroom with you?”

“Well, yeah.” Fiona answered, and Rhys made his eye-roll audible with an ‘ugh’.

“ _Anyways_ , I gotta ask you something else.” Fiona said, lowering her voice, and Rhys could sense the deal she was about to try and make with him before she’d even started, recognizing her tactics immediately. “How rich is this guy?”

“Rich isn’t even the right _word_ , Fi. He’s _loaded_. Like, seriously, I think his driveway’s bigger than the freaking motel.”

“No kidding!” Fiona laughed, and Rhys laughed with her.

And then, Fiona changed the mood entirely.

“You should totally sell some of his fancy shit.”

“What?!” Rhys nearly stood up from his space on the edge of the desk, disbelief washing over his features. “No, no, no, no, I could never do that to Jack! _No_ , Fi, just no.”

“Oh, don’t be difficult, Rhys, I’m not asking you to steal a car or anything. Then again…” Fiona pushed, unhappy that Rhys had rejected her offer.

“That’s so _evil_ , Fi!”

“Aw, come on, I bet he wouldn’t even miss it. And you could make a _fortune_ for us. I mean, you’re over there living it up with your motel-sized driveways and me and Sash are still trying to con our way through a free meal. _You know you want to_! Come on, for us!” Fiona bartered, but Rhys didn’t budge an inch.

“I _said_ , I could never do that to him!”

“What are you, in _love_ or something? Ugh, Rhys, you’re such a pussy sometimes!” Fiona raised her voice, trying her best to keep it shushed as she paced around the restaurant bathroom, her heels clanking on the floor.

“Don’t try and bully me into _stealing_ , Fiona!”

“This isn’t the fucking _playground_ , Rhys, I’m just asking you to do this for me!”

“Well, I’m not going to!”

“Well, _fuck off_ then!”

“Well, _fuck off_ to you too!” Rhys said as he hung up and threw his phone back into the drawer and slammed it shut, rubbing the tears away from his face that’d accumulated there.

How could Fiona ask him to do something like that? Didn’t she know him at all? Wasn’t she supposed to be his friend? Rhys felt stupid – maybe this had been Fiona’s plan all along. Was Sasha in on it too? Did they ship him off to a stranger’s house to get him to steal for them?

Rhys played with the hem of Jack’s sweater as he tried not to let Fiona’s words get to him too much. After a while, Rhys thought that maybe he should try and call her again to ask her if he’d overreacted, or if she’d _really_ meant it when she’d told him to _fuck off_ , but Rhys was angry and upset, and in no mind to talk to her again. Of course, the rational side of Rhys told him that he was being hormonal and overemotional – which was, admittedly, quite normal for him – but he couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to forget the exchange had ever happened. The brunette curled up into a ball on the side of the desk.

He missed Jack.

There was a knock on the door to the office that Rhys didn’t notice until the person who’d knocked walked up to him and poked him on the shoulder, causing Rhys to jump up from his space on the desk and rub his eyes more, focussing on the girl in front of him.

“Hey,” Angel said slowly, “everything alright?”

Rhys blinked a few times and sighed as he looked at Angel in a blazer and tie, realising that she must’ve just gotten back from school.

“Yeah, I’m good.” He said, sighing out a shaky breath. “I called my friend,” he said, pointing to the drawer he’d thrown his phone back into, “she was being a jerk, and I’m an emotional wreck. Nothing new.” He laughed as best he could, and watched as Angel let out an empathetic laugh as well.

“Ah.” She said, putting her hands into her pockets and popping a bubble of gum before carrying on with her sentence. “Can you make me something to eat? I mean, you are, like, a maid, right? And I’m bored of take-out. Plus, I can’t cook for shit.”

Rhys sniffed as he adjusted his sweater and smiled at Angel.

“I’ll see what I can do.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖° WOO! Hellooooo~!! WHO'S READY FOR AN ANGEL-CENTRIC CHAPTER?
> 
> (also, merry christmas to everyone who celebrates it!!!)

An awkward silence washed over the pair as they made their way down the stairs of the mansion and onto the ground floor. Angel led the way, chewing on her gum as she did so, adding another stick into her mouth and blowing bubbles. Her hands barely ever left her pockets, Rhys noted, and Rhys suddenly felt the overwhelming desire to have some pockets of his own; they must be a great way to fidget around in awkward circumstances such as this one.

Then again, it wasn’t the _most_ awkward thing Rhys had ever done – that is to say, he could think of a couple of instances that’d top _‘making my sugar daddy’s daughter something to eat’_ , but that wasn’t to say any of them were coming to mind at that particular point in time.

“So,” Rhys started speaking slowly as he looked around the large expanse of Handsome Jack’s kitchen with Angel at his side, “what can I get’cha?”

Angel took a while to answer his question, opting instead to make her way to the refrigerator to grab herself a soda and pop the lid open before slamming the door shut. She tapped her feet on the floor a few times, regarding the room as if she didn’t really know her way around it, thinking quietly to herself in-between sips of soda. Rhys could only presume that whatever was in Angel and Jack’s refrigerator hadn’t inspired any ideas for dinner, and he looked at her confusedly, not knowing what to suggest, or even how to break the ice between the two of them.

“Uh…” The black-haired teenager trailed off, sipping on her now-opened soda as she did so every now and again, looking at the cupboards around the kitchen like she had no idea what was actually in them – and, Rhys figured, she probably didn’t – as he’d mused earlier, Angel and Jack didn’t seem like the type of family to eat very healthily.

“I dunno.” Angel broke the silence that she’d created. “What’re you thinking?”

Rhys played around with the hem of Jack’s yellow sweater again, walking further into the kitchen as Angel hoisted herself up onto a countertop and continued to drink. The brunette let out an exhale of exasperation as the task of thinking up something to cook fell on his shoulders.

“I’m, ah, not even sure.” Rhys stuttered as he realised he was in no position to offer suggestions for things to eat as he had absolutely no idea what Jack’s cupboards had in them.

“Pasta?” Angel questioned, and it took Rhys a moment to even register that the teenager hadn’t just shouted a random word at him – no, pasta was, indeed, a food.

“Well, that’s easy enough.” Rhys concluded as he opened a cupboard, standing on his tiptoes to reach the pot on the highest shelf. “Boil me some water, please?”

Angel quirked an eyebrow at the audacity of Rhys asking her to do something, but nonetheless, she kicked herself away from the countertop and made her way over to fill the kettle, scrunching up her soda can and throwing it in the trashcan as she did so.

…

Ten minutes later – much to Rhys’ surprise – Angel and Rhys had successfully managed to navigate their way around the unsorted kitchen cabinets and had the beginnings of a pasta dish cooking on the stove. By the time they’d been able to find a bag of in-date pasta and a can of tomato sauce, the two had ended watching the large pot of pasta cook together. Rhys had done his best to instruct Angel how much to stir the pasta so it didn’t get stuck to the bottom of the pan but it didn’t end up too overcooked and, strangely enough, his cooking tips were being taken very seriously. Rhys was glad to see that Angel had found it in herself to listen to what she had to do – it made Rhys wonder if Angel had ever cooked anything before in her life.

If her reaction to watching the pasta soften in the boiling water was anything to go by (which involved her prodding the pasta with a spoon and shrieking as she realised that it wasn’t hard anymore) Rhys would be hastened to guess that she hadn’t.

It was at that point – with the two of them at such close proximity huddled over the top of the stove – that Rhys noticed a small, blue and black smudge crawling out from under Angel’s short shirt sleeve. Beforehand, the two had been chatting about nothing in particular as they had done yesterday; it was pleasant small-talk, but the two bonded over it even so.

Normally, Rhys wouldn’t have pried into matters like that, but he figured that since he and Angel would be spending a lot of time together for as long as Jack wanted Rhys around (which, Rhys hoped would be a _very long time_ ), he might as well speak his mind.

“Hey, uh… how’d that happen?” Rhys asked as nonchalantly as he could, motioning to the bruise on her shoulder with his hand.

Angel blanched.

“Oh, don’t tell Pops.” Was all that Angel replied with as she looked away from Rhys’ eyes, pulling her sleeve down back over it and fixating her focus on stirring the pasta some more. Her brows furrowed slightly as she tried to dodge away from Rhys’ question, but the brunette wasn’t satisfied with her answer.

“Well, that’s cryptic.” Rhys said out loud; Angel’s answer had done the exact opposite of what she’d wanted, and she’d enticed even more curiosity out of Rhys.

“It’s just,” Angel started as she took her hand off of the wooden spoon in the pot and used it to prop her head up as she slouched against the countertop, “I had a fight at school. Nothing serious, you know?”

Rhys gave Angel a quick once-over to make sure that she wasn’t lying, and to see if there were any more visible marks on her. Much to Rhys’ relief, it seemed like the small bruise was the only thing there.

“Do you… fight a lot?” Rhys prodded, trying his best not to sound like some condescending psychiatrist or a school councillor. He turned the heat down on the stove a little as he noticed that the pasta was bubbling a little too much before turning his gaze back to Angel, who was picking her nails out of what seemed to be boredom.

“Uh, yeah, I guess. I mean, I always win, if that’s what you’re bothered about.” Angel continued before standing a little taller and pretending to punch Rhys on the arm. “What can I say? I got a mean left hook, princess.” She said, smirking and trying to make the brunette pick up on her choice of nickname.

Rhys gave the black-haired teen an incredulous look before turning his attention back onto the pasta, turning off the heat completely and picking up the pan to strain it out at the sink. Angel quietened, perturbed that Rhys hadn’t reacted to her Jack-impression, and followed him over to the other side of the kitchen.

“Like I said,” she spoke again as she peered over Rhys’ shoulder to watch him pour the hot water down the drain, “don’t tell Pops. He hates it when I fight.”

“Surely your school calls home whenever there’s a fight?” Rhys questioned, setting the pot of pasta to the side and looking around the cupboards again for a dish.

“Well, yeah, but he’s always too busy takin’ business calls. I can delete whatever message they left on his cellphone by the time he’s home from work anyway.”

There was a pause as Rhys lifted himself up onto the counter to collect some vaguely clean-looking dishes, and Angel shifted on her feet. Rhys grimaced internally at how parental he was being towards the teenager, deciding as he crawled down back onto the floor with the dishes now in his hands that he should probably stop sounding like such a concerned mother.

“Promise me you won’t tell?” Angel asked, shaking Rhys out of his thoughts, holding out her pinky finger.

As a gesture of goodwill for his newfound friendship, Rhys had no other option but to put the dishes down next to the strained pot of pasta and hook his pinky with hers.

“I promise.”

Of course, over the loudness of their conversation, Rhys and Angel didn’t notice the slamming of a car door outside, or the familiar sound of the front door closing and a pair of keys hitting the living-room table.

As the door to the kitchen opened abruptly, the two broke apart in shock, snapping their hands back to their sides as if they’d just touched lava.

“ _Well, well, well,_ Rhysie, Angel!” Jack nearly shouted as he walked into the kitchen with a huge grin on his face, looking around in what could only be described as complete amusement at the spectacle laid out before him. “You’ve been…cooking.” He finished, his eyes trailing over to the steaming pan next to the sink and back over to the pair.

Angel blew a bubble of gum and waved her hand as she greeted Jack sardonically, pulling down her shirt sleeve as she did so. Rhys, on the other hand, positively _beamed_ at the sight of the older man walking through the door, unable to resist the urge he felt to walk up to Jack and smile at him like a puppy whose owner had just come back from the supermarket.

“Hey!” Rhys said as he played with a stray strand of hair that’d fallen onto his forehead, stepping directly in front of Jack childishly to make sure his attention was entirely on him. “You’re back!”

Jack gave Rhys a bemused look at the brunette’s inability to contain his excitement, placing a hand on the small of his back as he did so, watching amusedly as Rhys played with his hair.

“ _I sure am_ , cupcake.” Jack smiled back. “You guys wanna eat at the table?”

…

Although Rhys would’ve placed his bets on dinner with Jack and his daughter to go _terribly_ , much to his surprise, this wasn’t the case: Jack had been strangely pleasant and well-mannered at the dinner table and Angel held her tongue back amazingly. Rhys had discovered over the course of their meal that, on days where they could fit it in, Angel and Jack enjoyed eating at the table together because, as Angel explained to Rhys as she ate her pasta, “it’s one of the only family things we have time for because Pops is so busy”.

In all honesty, Rhys felt like this was one of the aspects of his new job that he could happily get used to; he’d been sitting in-between Sasha and Fiona eating cheap microwave meals on their crappy rented couch for far too long, and he deserved to eat out of fine china for once – even if the only thing he was eating was pasta that he’d cooked himself.

Out of everything that could and probably will happen during his time at Handsome Jack’s manor, Rhys mused that some weird semblance of a family dynamic was the least of his troubles, so he learned to enjoy the strange maternal role that he seemed to have taken on over the short course of two days. Besides, Rhys had found from his days in the motel that he far more suited a domestic role over a breadwinner; there was no reason that he shouldn’t use his natural motherly instincts to his advantage, was there?

Once the three had finished eating, Rhys took it upon himself to collect all of the dishes and glasses from the table and cart them into the kitchen to clean up because – if the state of the kitchen _before_ Rhys arrived was anything to go by – if he didn’t wash the dishes, then nobody would.

Perhaps, however, leaving the kitchen was a bad idea.

“Angel, what the _fuck_ is that on your shoulder?”

Rhys abruptly stopped scrubbing the dishes as he heard Jack’s booming voice echo from beyond the closed door of the dining room. Out of sheer shock and curiosity, Rhys put the plate he was holding in his hands down into the warm, soapy water that filled the sink and turned his head to listen to Angel and Jack’s conversation.

“Aw, _shit_ , Pops. It’s nothing.” Rhys heard Angel say. Clearly, she’d forgotten to pull the sleeve of her shirt down again.

“Doesn’t look like nothing, sweet-cheeks.” Jack’s voice dripped venom, and something in his voice made Rhys feel like the two of them had been through this conversation before.

“Well, looks can be deceiving.” Angel tried, joking sarcastically as if she was attempting to brush off the situation.

Rhys heard a chair scraping across the floor.

“ _Angel_.” Jack pushed, emphasising her name dramatically. “Don’t walk away from me.”

“I’ll do what I want.” Angel replied.

Rhys bit his lip.

The explosion of an argument that followed was _volatile_ : Jack shouted and Angel shouted back. Amidst the incoherent bickering, Rhys’ mind vaguely wondered to the thought that he made a _very good move_ in taking away the dishes and plates before the argument because someone would’ve probably _thrown something_ by now. Although Rhys couldn’t quite hear everything that was being said – truthfully, he didn’t _want to_ hear any of it – he managed to make out Angel admitting that she’d been in a fight, which seemed to increase Jack’s shouting volume tenfold.

A door slammed, and the argument ended. Rhys could hear someone walking up the stairs, and frankly, he had no idea what to do. Somewhere in the middle of the drama, Rhys realised that he’d gripped onto the edge of the sink and his knuckles were beginning to turn white, so he released his shaky hands and let out a near-silent breath of horror.

How on Earth had that conversation escalated so quickly? Was it a regular occurrence for Jack and Angel to fight so explosively?

Tentatively, Rhys made his way out of the kitchen and decided against his better judgement to walk back into the dining room, where he found Jack sat in his chair at the head of the table with his hands running through his hair.

To indicate Jack of his presence, Rhys knocked on the back of the door before he’d fully stepped in, and Jack whipped his head up to look at the brunette. Frustration was evident on the older man’s features, and Rhys had absolutely no idea as to what to do – but it was his natural instinct to try and make Jack feel better.

Rhys made his way timidly to the other side of the room, trying his best not to trip up under the intensity of Jack’s eyes on him. As Rhys reached Jack’s side, he put a hand on Jack’s forearm and smiled as comfortingly as he could, not knowing the words to say, or whether he should ask about what’d happened or not.

Thankfully for Rhys, Jack decided to put him out of his misery and break the silence for him.

“The kid’s gotta learn to stop picking fights.” Jack said slowly, sighing as he did so, stopping the younger man from taking his hand away by placing his own on top of Rhys’. “I don’t know how to get through to her nowadays. I figured it’s not your problem, so I asked her about it when you walked outta’ the room. I’m guessing you heard everything though, right, Rhysie?”

“Yeah, kind of.” Rhys trailed off, unsure of what to say, and the room turned silent again.

“Hey, baby, c’mere.” Jack suddenly said, pulling his chair out from the table a little and motioning for Rhys to sit down. Rhys looked down at Jack’s lap before pulling his sweater down a little, plopping himself downwards before allowing Jack to snake an arm around his back and pull him into his chest. Despite Rhys’ initial nervousness about approaching the older man after what’d just happened, the simple embrace made Rhys feel _incredibly_ at ease. Rhys breathed in a little and couldn’t help the happy noise that escaped from his mouth as Jack held him tighter, and Rhys felt the way Jack’s chest moved up and down as he laughed at Rhys’ silliness.

Much to Rhys’ annoyance, the quiet cuddle didn’t last long, and Jack pulled Rhys away to look at the younger man straight in the eyes.

“Baby, can I ask you a question?” Jack asked quietly, and Rhys replied with a nod. “D’you think I’m a bad guy?”

Immediately, Rhys shook his head. “No, of course not, Jack.” The brunette replied, scooting further towards Jack and placing a hand on his chest. “I think you’re… lovely.”

Jack snorted, poking fun at Rhys’ choice of word. “Lovely?!” He repeated, nearly breaking out into full-blown laughter. “Now, princess, I’ve been called a lot of things in my time, but _lovely_ really takes the _goddamned cake_!”

“Hey, I’m _trying_ to make you feel better!” Rhys scoffed, offended, folding his arms childishly.

“Aw, Rhysie, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Jack jibed, scooping Rhys’ legs up from the floor so they draped over the side of his lap as he grabbed the brunette’s chin and leaned in.

Rhys’ eyes widened in shock as his and Jack’s lips connected in a bumpy mess of noses and teeth. When Jack decided to break apart, Rhys’ mouth was left wide open, his lips yearning for another touch of contact. His eyes met with the older man’s, and Jack was smirking widely at Rhys’ reaction.

It took a moment or so for Rhys to come back to his senses.

“Jack?”

“Yes, pumpkin?”

“Can you kiss me again, please?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this fic is slowly becomming so self-indulgent oh my days)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT'S HAPPENIN' SINNERS?! ❤ Hahahah I hope everyone's doing ok! apologies for the long wait for this chapter (;﹏;) IT'S NSFW THO!!
> 
> THIS CHAP IS FOR @ACCACIA'S BIRTHDAY!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY DARLING~!!
> 
> DID I MENTION @pitchjack and I did a collab and she's AWESOME?! check it out http://archiveofourown.org/works/5699644 lovelies (*‿*✿)

“Say please.”

“ _Please_.”

The second kiss was better.

“You’re a good little boy, you know that?” Jack mused, drawing his hand around Rhys’ chin to trace around the plumped lines of his lips delicately with his thumb, as if he were handling silk.

Rhys mewled something inaudible, parting his lips in hopes that Jack would take the message and stick his thumb into his mouth. Much to the brunette’s disappointment, Jack took his thumb away instead, leaving Rhys to lean forwards with his mouth open.

“Rhys, remember your manners.” Jack warned, amusedly watching as the younger man submissively followed his hand with his mouth. “I _said_ you were a good little boy.”

“T-thank you, Jack…” Rhys stammered, pouting with his bottom lip out, eager to redeem himself. “Please can I-”

“Sure thing, sugar.”

Jack smirked, interrupting Rhys’ feeble attempts to ask him for his hand back. Rhys smiled, wrapping his much smaller hand around Jack’s, bringing the older man’s thumb past his lips.

It was a simple action, but the intimacy of it made Rhys’ cheeks flush pink as he sucked the appendage in his mouth, unable to stop the meek moan of comfort that spilled from his throat as Jack chuckled and pulled him in closer, stroking the brunette’s hair with his free hand.

Rhys figured that he always sucked his thumb after something traumatic had happened; it calmed him down and rationalised his thoughts. Of course, he’d never shared his childish habit with anyone before, much less felt safe enough to suck on someone else’s thumb – it made Rhys feel like a little boy again.

It was a good feeling.

“You’re _so_ cute.” Jack whispered darkly. “You love sucking with that dirty little mouth of yours, don’t you, baby boy?”

“Mm…” Rhys moaned in reply with his mouth full as he closed his eyes, nuzzling into Jack’s neck, traces of arousal trickling through the brunette’s body. “Jack…”

The moment didn’t last long, however, as the sound of door slamming against its frame echoed from the floor above. Rhys stopped sucking and guided the older man’s thumb out of his mouth disappointedly.

“I…” The brunette started, watching as a scowl formed on Jack’s face. “I think I should go check on Angel.”

“Disrespectful little mare.” Jack sneered, and a part of Rhys was desperate for the older man to confirm that he was talking about Angel instead of him.

“W-What does she normally do after arguments?” Rhys tried, and Jack leaned back in his chair exasperatedly.

“Goes to her room.” The older man replied monotonously. “Doesn’t talk to me. I don’t talk to her.”

Rhys sighed, weighing up his options.

“What if she’s crying?” He tried again, shifting uncomfortably in Jack’s lap.

“Angel doesn’t cry. She’s not a baby.”

“But I’m worried about her!” Rhys argued, wrapping his arms around Jack’s neck in an attempt to catch his attention again.

“You’ve only known her three seconds.” Jack rolled his eyes. “You can’t be worried about her.”

“I’ve known her just as long as I’ve known you. And I worry about you… and care about you… and stuff…” The brunette trailed off, looking into Jack’s eyes nervously, who replied with a smile.

“You’re precious to me, you know that?” The older man said, bringing his finger up to trail across Rhys’ sharp jawline, pulling the boy so close their noses and lips touched, but only for a fleeting moment.

Rhys resisted the temptation.

“I’ll come back after I know she’s okay.”

…

Making his way up to Angel’s room was a nerve-wracking venture for Rhys; other than the time he spent in high school, Rhys had absolutely no experience in the undeniably freaking impossible area of dealing with an emotionally frustrated teenager. Music blared from the other side of Angel’s bedroom door (whose bold ‘no entry’ sign did absolutely nothing to calm Rhys nerves).

Nevertheless, Rhys _was_ worried for her. The brunette swallowed his pride and knocked on the door, half-praying that there wouldn’t be an answer, and that he could just go back and sit on Jack’s lap all night instead.

The music stopped.

“Angel, can I come in?” He called, fumbling around with the hem of his sweater out of nervousness again. “It’s Rhys.”

“No shit. Who else is it gonna be?” The teenager’s voice – which was shaky and sad, not at all like the witty monotone Rhys was used to – boomed from the other side. Even so, Angel still opened the door, her mouth curved downwards and her eyes puffy.

“I can leave you alone if you want me to.” Rhys smiled, speaking softly and quietly, trying his best not to distress Angel any further.

She gave Rhys an undecipherable look, rubbing her nose with her wrist as she did so, using her other hand to brush back the locks of black hair that’d fallen over the shaved side of her head.

“You really wanna come in?” Angel asked miserably.

The fact that the young girl was so sceptical that he genuinely wanted to help her made Rhys inexplicably sad, but he shook that thought from his mind, contemplating instead what on Earth he should say to the teenager in front of him. Rhys smiled as Angel took a step backwards, allowing him into her room before she quickly shut the door behind him.

“Are you okay?” The brunette asked, watching as Angel turned her record player on again before she sat down on her bed in the far corner of the room. “That whole thing was kind of… catastrophic.”

“Yeah, whatever. It doesn’t bother me.”

Rhys chewed his bottom lip as he looked around Angel’s room, which was a mess of discarded clothes and records. The walls of the room were dark purple, but most of the paint was covered by band posters, concert, train and movie tickets, as well as the occasional postcard and polaroid photo, many of which were of Angel and a girl with strikingly red hair in ponytails. There was an acoustic guitar in the corner of the room, covered by vintage stickers. The brunette’s eyes glanced over to a vanity table which held a heap of unorganised makeup and hairspray bottles, as well as a single ornate photo frame which showed Angel as a toddler being held by Jack. The two were sticking their tongues out at the camera, and Rhys smiled warmly at the happy sight.

Rhys vaguely wondered about whether or not he, Jack and Angel would ever take pictures like that.

He shook the thought as quickly as it had come to him.

“Why are you here, again?” Angel prodded, frowning in response to Rhys’ scrutiny of her room. “Like, why aren’t you sucking on my dad’s dick or something? Bending over backwards and telling him how great he is? Isn’t that what he’s got you shacked up here for?”

“I just wondered if you wanted to talk…” He trailed, stammering.

“Well, I don’t.”

Rhys grimaced, awkwardness taking over as he broke the intimidating eye contact Angel had tried to hold, looking around the room again as he chewed on his lip. The brunette’s mind scattered, panicking him enough to try and think about _any way_ he could get through this situation.

The idea that his brain finally came up with was _terrible_.

“You know, uh, there’s a game I used to play all the time in high school.” Rhys started, trying his best to change the subject. “Sort of like a ‘you tell me something, I tell you something’ type thing.”

“Games are for babies.” Angel quickly replied, drawing her knees up to her chest.

Rhys shifted about nervously on his feet, taking a step backwards, chalking his plan to talk to Angel up as a failure. Much to his surprise, however, he watched as the pale skin on Angel’s face turn red as she patted beside her on the bed, motioning for Rhys to come and sit down beside her.

“…You first.” She stated with her mouth against her knees, clearly embarrassed.

“Well, um,” Rhys mumbled as he made his way across the room, careful not to stand on any of Angel’s clothes as he did so, “what d’ya want to know?”

“How’d you end up here?” She queried, cocking an eyebrow up at the brunette. “I’m kind of curious as to what possessed you to work for Popsicle.”

“That’s… a long story.” Rhys replied cautiously.

“Give me the short version, then.”

The young man thought for a moment, summarising all of the points in his head before answering.

“I couldn’t find a job after college, so I ended up grifting with these girls I met in high school.” He said quickly, trying not to go into too much detail. “We were low on money, and I didn’t want to sell myself…”

“So, you landed in the warm and loving arms of Handsome Jack.” Angel surmised, rolling her eyes mockingly.

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.”

“Trust me, I am.”

Rhys frowned, a strange urge to fight Jack’s corner taking over him, but he kept his mouth shut in favour of asking Angel a question instead. “Do you and Jack argue… a lot?”

“Um, yeah. That was a lame question. Now I get to ask you something?” The teenager replied offhandedly, as if it was the most casual thing in the world to admit. Rhys’ frown deepened, unsatisfied with her answer, but he supposed it’d have to do. Looking to the side at Angel, he nodded, allowing her to think for a moment.

“Do you _actually_ like my dad?” Angel questioned. “Or, are you just in it for all the fancy shit he’s gonna buy you?”

“What?” Rhys asked, genuinely shocked by her assumption.

“I wouldn’t blame you.” She added, shrugging her shoulders.

“No, of course not! I mean, yeah, at first…” The brunette started, trailing off. “But Jack is so charming and funny and clever and _hot_ \- uh, sorry.”

“God, you’re such a weirdo. Jack isn’t _any_ of those things.” Angel scolded, shaking her head in pseudo-disgust. “Right. Your question?”

“Um…” Rhys thought, completely forgetting exactly why he’d come into Angel’s room in the first place as he blushed, eager to talk about Jack. “Do you think Jack likes me?”

“Oh, brother.” Angel pulled a face of revulsion, slapping Rhys on the shoulder.

“I’m being serious!”

“Yes, I think he _likes you_.” The teenager mocked, rolling her eyes in irritation, aggravation creeping into her tone. “What’re you, twelve?”

Rhys giggled involuntarily as Angel threw her hands up before flopping backwards onto the bed, exasperated by the brunette’s sudden obscenest burst of fanboying.

…

Angel and Rhys had continued the game until Angel had decided – after picking up on the trend of _all_ of Rhys’ questions revolving around Jack (ranging from _‘what’s his favourite colour’_ to _‘am I his usual type or is the whole maid thing kind of a new one’_ ) – to kick Rhys out of her room.

It’d only occurred to Rhys after he’d stepped out of the teenager’s room that they’d been talking for a _while_ ; the evening sun had set and if the darkness of the downstairs floor was anything to go by, Jack had relocated to his room.

Memorising the layout of the mansion as well as he could, Rhys made his way to Jack’s bedroom, knocking on the door tentatively.

“Jack?” The brunette called out submissively. “Am I allowed to sleep in your bed again?”

The door opened immediately.

“Hey there, baby boy.” Jack smiled as he allowed Rhys to happily step over the threshold, snaking a hand around the younger man’s back, which Rhys replied to eagerly by placing his hands on Jack’s shoulders.

“You wanna ask me that again, Rhysie?” Jack asked amusedly, thick amounts of provocation dripping through his words like honey. “C’mon, one more time. Ask daddy again.”

“Can I sleep in your bed, daddy?” Rhys giggled, running a hand over the older man’s chest, the nickname Jack introduced sending Rhys’ mind crazy with dirty thoughts.

“Fuck yes.” Jack grinned, taking a step back to unbutton the top of his shirt. “On one condition, baby boy: you have to help daddy get ready for bed.”

Rhys bit his lip, reaching forward eagerly to paw at the rest of Jack’s shirt buttons, struggling immensely despite his readiness, his face turning a darker shade of red every time Jack laughed at his ineptitude. After a while, Jack decided to pity Rhys and help him with the last few buttons, sliding his shirt off and onto the floor, smirking as the younger man stared longingly at the sight of his bare chest.

“Knees.” Jack instructed, snapping his fingers and pointing to the floor. Rhys all but threw himself to the ground, mumbling incoherent little mewls as he groped Jack’s belt, undoing the buckle before making short work of his trousers.

“Ja- ah…” Rhys breathed, clenching his teeth and hoping that his slip-up would go unnoticed as he toyed with the waistband of Jack’s briefs, trying his best not to drool at the sight of the tent the older man’s arousal had created. “Do you want me to… to…”

Rhys gulped as his heart pounded inside his chest.

“Do you want me to use my mouth like a good boy?”

“Oh,” Jack teased, grabbing a handful of Rhys’ hair and pulling him up, setting him down on the bed, “you’re such a little slut for sucking, aren’t you?”

“I can’t help it, daddy!” Rhys yelled as Jack parted his legs, laying him down completely as Jack towered over him from the edge of the bed, pressing their clothed crotches together. The brunette hissed in pleasure, reaching forwards madly to grab at Jack, who revelled in the quivering mess laid out before him.

“You and me, little slut.” The older man moaned, and Rhys cocked his head up obediently to look at Jack as he spoke to him. “We’re gonna have a good time.”

Jack leaned over, pulling the younger man’s jumper off of him and discarding it to the side before stripping Rhys of his underwear, sliding the panties off his ankles. Rhys murmured noisily as he felt Jack’s hand ghost over his erection, stepping back to take off his own underwear.

“D-daddy…” Rhys whined, barely able to get the words out as he looked at Jack’s body, tanned and trimmed and _huge_. “What’re you gonna d-do to me?”

Jack chuckled darkly, dipping his hand down to cup his erection, stroking it to full hardness at the sight of Rhys panting, begging on the bed below him, his legs wide open and submissive. The older man grabbed one of Rhys’ legs, hoisting it onto his waist for better leverage, thrilled by the way Rhys parted just enough for his little hole to be exposed.

Jack used his other hand to reach below Rhys, rubbing around the boy’s entrance with his thumb to test his reaction, which was met by a sharp yell of ecstasy. Eager to entice more of those beautiful sounds, Jack replaced his thumb with his index finger, dipping into the warm, soft ring of muscle.

“M-more… more, please… more…” Rhys moaned, the string of words falling out of his mouth shamelessly. Jack couldn’t deny the brunette’s request, adding another finger into the tight hole, watching as Rhys quickly learned how to roll his hips to make the digits go deeper.

“My little princess, you’re so tight.” Jack grinned, his own breaths becoming more shallow at how much Rhys’ hole resisted being scissored and stretched, barely able to fight off the temptation of slamming into the brunette that second.

“How does this… feel so good?” Rhys questioned quietly, trying his best to make his full body rock with the rhythm of Jack’s fingers.

“You want to make it even better?” The older man replied, his eyes glazing over with lust as he tried to stretch Rhys even more forcefully. “Touch your nipples for me, Rhysie.”

Nervously, Rhys trailed his hand across his chest, pinching himself tentatively at first, desperate to do it properly for Jack. A loud mewl escaped his throat as he squeezed the sensitive piece of flesh, earning an appreciative growl from the older man above him. Rhys tried again, rolling it between his forefinger and thumb, moaning unstoppably as he felt his dick twitch, _so close_ to release.

“Ah, ah, ah, you bad little boy!” Jack scolded, removing his fingers quickly, leaving Rhys to whine in disappointment, left empty and open. “You can only cum when daddy lets you. Is that understood?”

“Yes, daddy, I understand! Please don’t punish me! I wanna be a good boy!” Rhys begged, working himself up into a state of distress, on the borderline of sobbing.

“Oh, no, no, baby, no tears.” Jack shushed, leaning down to comfort Rhys, planting a kiss on his trembling mouth, sucking powerfully on the boy’s bottom lip before pulling away. “You _are_ a good boy.”

Rhys whimpered, dragging his fingertips along the older man’s back to pull him closer as Jack made his way to Rhys’ neck, nipping at the skin with his teeth enough to leave pretty little red territorial marks. Once Jack was satisfied with the mess he’d made of the brunette’s neck, he dipped his head down to the juncture between Rhys’ collarbone and his shoulder, biting away at the flesh there too, loving how his pale skin blossomed with colour after every taste.

Jack felt his dick ache with anticipation.

“Are you ready, Rhysie? Are you ready for daddy’s cock?”

“ _Please_.”

“It might hurt, little boy. I don’t know if you’re prepped enough.”

Rhys groaned, his fingernails gripping onto the older man’s shoulders in submissive defiance at his words. “No, daddy, I’m ready, I swear! I need it! I-”

The breath rushed out of Rhys’ throat as Jack pushed into his hole, the large tip of the older man’s erection brushing inside of him, much bigger and warmer and _better_ than the fingers ever could be. Rhys inhaled again, a scream of pleasure erupting out from inside him, and Jack groaned in response, mustering up every bit of self-control he had not to _wreck_ the boy under him.

Involuntarily, Rhys tensed up, his unused hole not able to cope with Jack’s member. The initial pleasure contorted into pain, and Rhys sobbed again, realising how right Jack was about his lack of readiness.

“Sh.” Jack cooed, lapping at the bruising marks on his shoulder and kissing them delicately before titling his head upwards to look at Rhys, whose milky thighs started trembling as he continued to tense. “It’s gonna be okay, my precious little baby.”

Jack kissed Rhys’ cheek lovingly, his hand wondering down to cup Rhys’ small, leaking cock, starting off with small, affectionate strokes.

“I’m not good enough…” Rhys snivelled, holding onto Jack’s shoulders for dear life, his eyes closed. “I’m not good enough to take it…”

“Of course you are, little boy. You just have to relax, that’s all. Just relax, and let daddy take care of you.”

Rhys’ bottom lip quivered as he looked at Jack, trying his best to do what he was told. Rhys breathed deeply for a moment, slowly calming down as his hips reacted to Jack’s strokes, listening to the sweet nothings the older man whispered in his ear.

Jack felt Rhys’ body unwind as the ache to thrust into the boy became too great, and Jack moved forwards, driven by an insatiable need, another inch. Rhys started mewling again, and Jack took those sounds as incentive to push even deeper until finally, he was in all the way.

“Daddy…” Rhys breathed as Jack leaned upwards, drinking in the sight. “L-look at me, daddy. I took it all in! Are you proud of me…?”

Rhys was an utter mess; with rosy, pert nipples left red and abused, love-bites forming into bruises littering one side of his neck, collar bone and shoulder. He was drooling, thin streaks of it lining the corners of his mouth and covering his glistening, plump lips – and his cock was dripping, swollen at the tip and hard.

“So proud.” Jack assured, showering his beautiful baby boy in praise. “Now, baby, how hard do you want daddy to go? Like _this_?” The older man demonstrated, cruelly pulling nearly all the way out, leaving just the head of his dick inside, before slamming forwards, making Rhys cry out.

The older man set a harsh, unforgiving pace, but Rhys did his best to catch up, allowing Jack to lean upwards for better leverage so he could go even deeper, replacing the hold he had on Jack’s back by gripping the bedsheets until his knuckles turned white.

“Tell daddy if it’s too much, princess.” Jack managed to speak, forcing out the words in-between powerful thrusts, angling Rhys’ ass upwards by grabbing his hips. “I don’t want to hurt my precious boy.”

“N-no, don’t stop, daddy, don’t ever stop!” Rhys pleaded, the feeling of Jack’s big dick inside him becoming too much, left powerless and limp, unable to move.

Rhys knew he couldn’t hold on.

“I want to cum!” Rhys pleaded, voice desperate. “I need to! Please, please… pretty please!”

“Rhysie, cum for me.” Jack commanded, voice demanding and low, and Rhys spiralled over the edge, tears spilling from the corners of his eyes, throat sore and croaky, body thoroughly spent. Jack followed shortly after, thrusting a few more times into Rhys’ loose hole before doing so, letting himself spill inside.

“Oh…” Rhys moaned as Jack pulled out, some of the older man’s cum dribbling from his hole too, leaking out onto the expensive bedsheets below him. It was a strange sensation, but Rhys felt amazing, clenching in hopes that Jack’s seed would stay inside.

“Rhys, you’re gorgeous…” The older man mused, licking his lips as Rhys looked up at him with tired eyes and flushed cheeks. “I bet you’re sleepy now, aren’t you?”

Rhys nodded, opening his mouth, motioning for Jack’s hand. Jack smirked, dipping his thumb back down to Rhys’ abused entrance before bringing the cum-covered digit close to the brunette’s lips. Obediently, Rhys took the thumb in his mouth and cleaned it with his tongue, humming as the creamy liquid slid down his throat.

“You’re such a pretty boy.” Jack smirked as he took the thumb from Rhys’ mouth.

“Do pretty boys get cuddles?” Rhys giggled, looking exhausted, sitting up and leaning against Jack’s chest for support.

Jack laughed too, smoothing Rhys’ messy hair down gently.

“They sure do.”

Jack scooped Rhys up in his arms, pulling back the silken duvets on his bed to slide them both in, settling down on the plush pillows. Jack did his best to clean the mess off of Rhys’ abdomen with his hand, wiping it lazily on the expensive sheets. Rhys nuzzled Jack’s cheek with his nose before dozing off, leaving Jack to sit and wonder why he’d allowed this boy to get so close to his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...was it worth the wait? (¬‿¬)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO'S BACK~ ( ˘ ³˘)
> 
> (well, actually, I haven't been gone that long in comparison to some of the other gaps in my chapters but EH *crappy party popper goes off*)
> 
> SKIP THIS IF YOU JUST WANNA GET TO THE RHACK GOODNESS but guess who's had a shitty week: hello. it's me. I've been at home since last friday dying 'cos I have some sort of icky virus and my tonsils swelled up. yaaay... (×_×;)

The clock read 8:02AM.

“Rhysie.”

Rhys groaned, turning around in the strong arms that were holding him, shielding his eyes away from the sunlight that shone through the curtains into Jack’s chest lovingly.

“Rhys.”

The brunette made another sound of defiance, curling up into himself and latching onto Jack, disabling the older man from being able to let him go, effectively trapping them both in the embrace. Rhys’ mind was blurry and his thighs were sore; but somehow it was a good feeling, like he was satisfied in being used, and satisfied in belonging to Jack.

Jack murmured something inaudible as he tried to untangle himself from Rhys’ long limbs, who seemed to simply hold on tighter the more Jack moved.

“Not letting go. I’m comfy.” Rhys grumbled, wrapping his arms around Jack’s neck.

Jack looked down at the boy in his arms, with wild hair and red marks from his handprints. He rolled his eyes, not really used to handling a situation like this – where someone was dying to be in his presence rather than dying to run away from it. Jack’s idiot employees knew that he was a force to be reckoned with; not some cuddling pansy.

The clock read 8:13AM.

“You’re like an octopus.” Jack commented, fruitlessly trying to pry himself away from Rhys’ legs and arms. “Rhys, babe, light of my life.”

“Mm?” Rhys stirred.

“I’m gonna be late for work, sweetness. I mean, I’d love to sit and watch you drool and snore all day, but a man’s gotta earn a living.” Jack stated, idly shaking Rhys to try and wake him up.

“Ugh.” He let out, slowly sitting up, dangling his legs over the side of the bed. “Fine.”

That was when the dull, sore ache of last night’s activities washed over Rhys’ body.

“Ow, ow… Okay, this isn’t pleasant.”

“You, uh, feelin’ the burn there, kitten?” Jack laughed, subconsciously moving a hand over to rub little circles into Rhys’ back.

“A little…” Rhys whined as he scooted closer to Jack, titling his head back so he could kiss the older man on the cheek.

Jack revelled in the adorableness of Rhys’ actions, smirking as he drew the other closer again, completely uncaring about the time he was wasting. “Aw well, we can’t be having that, can we, baby?”

“Jack…” Rhys giggled, abruptly stopping when his eyes fell on the clock on the bedside table. “You know, you should get ready for work.”

Jack ran his hands up the younger man’s back to rest at the back of his neck and cup his chin, turning his face so they made eye contact. “Oh? You changed your tune. Don’t want me to fuss over you? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, y’know. I don’t normally dish out… uh…”

“Affection?” Rhys offered.

“Yeah, right. That stuff.” Jack deadpanned, almost shuddering as he did so, lifting himself off the bed and making his way over to the other side of the room to start getting changed.

Rhys didn’t last long on his own before he stood up too, taking the bedsheet with him.

“I changed my mind. Come back to bed.”

“I’m half-dressed, Rhysie.” Jack smoothed out his shirt as he put it on, watching as Rhys – who was hunched over underneath his duvet – stood a step or so away from him. “You’re such a whiny little thing.”

“I get bored when you’re not around, though.” Rhys moaned, adjusting the duvet over him some more.

“You might wanna check your job description, babe.” Jack argued back, amusement playing on his voice. “Last time I checked, you were my entertainment. Not the other way around.”

Rhys smiled.

“I don’t even know what my job description is anymore.”

Jack smiled back.

“Maybe I could come to work with you instead?” The brunette offered.

Jack spluttered out a laugh as he looked Rhys up and down, who turned bright red in return. “What? Like _that_? I mean, sure, whatever floats your boat, pumpkin.”

“I didn’t _mean_ while I’m naked!”

“No, no, you know what, actually? You’re coming to work with me like that. You can just sit on my desk naked and pretty all day and everyone’s gonna be so jealous-”

“I changed my mind!”

“Aw, baby.” Jack said as he circled the brunette, dragging the duvet slowly from his shoulders down to the floor. He stood behind Rhys, and Rhys looked away from himself as Jack ushered their bodies over to the full-length mirror.

Jack looked over Rhys’ body; his milky skin, his tiny stomach, and those stupidly long beanpoles he called legs. The older man pulled Rhys closer against himself, but Rhys just closed his eyes as he blushed hard, feeling Jack’s clothes against his bare skin.

“Look at you.” The older man praised, running his hands along Rhys’ tiny abdomen. “They really would all be jealous. You’re a thing of beauty, my little Rhysie.”

“I’m not going anywhere in the nude!” Rhys shook his head, refusing to look at himself.

“Well then,” Jack quipped, “wear the clothes you came in. Or you could always wear your little maid ensemble…”

“But they’re _dirty_.”

The older man rolled his eyes at Rhys’ show of childishness, grabbing him by one hand to twirl him around so he was facing Jack. The two stood there, chest to chest and eye to eye.

“Which reminds me.” Jack grinned, holding Rhys’ hand firmly. “Gonna take you out this weekend. You’ve been a good boy, so daddy’s buying you some nice clothes. Sound good?”

“Define _nice_ …” Rhys warned, a playful smirk painting across his lips.

“Anything your little heart desires.” Jack replied, playing into Rhys’ game.

“Don’t tell me that, daddy.” The brunette giggled, lifting his hands up to rest on Jack’s broad shoulders, lifting a leg up into the air. “Your bank account would _suffer_.”

“I’m sure it can handle whatever you throw at it. You know, we should get you your own credit card.”

“Mm…” Rhys hummed, leaning forward to connect his hips with Jack’s, standing in-between the older man’s legs. “Good idea.”

“Well, well, well, looks like someone gets off on money. Good to know.” Jack raised an eyebrow, amused by Rhys’ show of affection. “I should make you give me a lap dance. Throw money on you while you do it. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Rhys was taken by the overwhelming urge to kiss the man in front of him, lunging at his lips passionately. Rhys sighed, closing his eyes for a second as he hummed in contentment, before he suddenly realised that he’d just lunged at Jack.

Opening his eyes again, Rhys took his lips away from Jack’s quickly.

“…Sorry.”

Rhys grimaced at the look on Jack’s face – which could only be described as stunned and vaguely offended. The brunette frowned, which seemed to shock Jack back into life, and his face changed again into something fonder.

“You’re cute.” Jack breathed out warmly, before his face contorted again and he coughed awkwardly. “But, uh, I should really get to work.”

Rhys figured that was as far as Jack’s tolerance for romance went.

“Have a good day, Jack. I’ll miss you.” Rhys called out to Jack, who squeezed the younger man’s hand before letting go and walking to the door. Naturally, Rhys followed. “I’ll think about you all the time.”

“Same, babe.”

Yep. Definitely as far as it could go.

“Wait, wait!” The brunette shouted as Jack started walking down the stairs.

Rhys nearly tripped up over the bedsheet he had around him, and Jack moved back up the stairs quickly, hesitatingly putting a hand on Rhys’ arm to steady him.

“Um.” Rhys stammered, motioning down to his unclothed form. “What should I-”

“Hah…” Jack scratched the back of his head, letting out a short exhale. “Try your luck in Angel’s room. You’re both…”

Jack’s eyes scanned the lithe body in front of him.

“…Gangly.”

“Wait, wait!” Rhys begged as Jack turned around again, eager to not spend another day on his own in the manor doing nothing. Jack faced the brunette with an incredulous look, who was shifting around on his feet awkwardly.

“I don’t wanna be on my own all day! Just give me a minute to get ready.”

“Baby boy, I’m cutting time short as it is-”

“I’ll be quick, I promise. I just need a shower and some clothes.”

Jack smoothed back his hair, looking at Rhys and tutting.

“You really wanna come to work with me?” He questioned, already knowing the answer. “Then… go on, haul ass. I’ll find you something Angel doesn’t wear too often.”

“Okay, Jack.” Rhys smiled warmly, the corners of his mouth pulling upwards as he felt a pink blush spread across his nose.

Jack shook his head at himself, pulling his shirt sleeve over his wrist to check the time on his watch.

He was already late.

…

“Cupcake, if you don’t hurry up I’m gonna wring your pretty neck!”

“Sorry!” Rhys shouted as he ran down the stairs quickly, his hair still half-wet, Angel’s clothes sticking to him uncomfortably.

Jack was stood in the manor’s doorway tapping his foot, keys to his car in his hands as he waited for Rhys to make his way downstairs from the second floor.

“Okay, let’s _go_. Move that tiny butt out the door, please.” Jack ushered, and Rhys sped up, the heels of his boots – which he’d brought along from his first day as Jack’s maid – clicking on the floor in-between his small, fast-paced steps.

Rhys breathed in the fresh air as he passed the threshold of the front door, drinking in the sight of the front of Jack’s huge house – the same sight he saw when he first arrived here, before Jack had walked out and left him star-struck.

Jack led the way down the steps onto the driveway, where a classy black convertible was parked. Rhys couldn’t help the grin that spread across his features as Jack unlocked the vehicle with a click of his keys and opened the passenger door, motioning for Rhys to quickly get in.

“Before we set off, do I look okay?” Rhys asked, and Jack shook his head in exasperation. “I mean, do these jeans fit me? And I didn’t have time to style-”

“We don’t have time for this, sweetness.” Jack murmured through gritted teeth, trying to usher Rhys into the car again, but Rhys didn’t budge.

The brunette made a wordless noise of insecurity as he looked down at his Angel-inspired ensemble; an old and tight pair of black skinny jeans with rips in the knees and a plain, black tank top, which was low-cut on the neckline. Neither the jeans or the left much of Rhys to the imagination – the waistline of the skinnies and the hem of the top didn’t meet, so there was a section of Rhys’ abdomen that was showing, and the material of both items of clothing clung to him snugly, sculpting his sharp hips and long legs.

When he’d got out of the shower, Jack had brazenly walked into the bathroom and handed him the pile. At the time, Rhys was more focussed on getting dressed than being fashionable, but the prospect of people looking at him while he was in _this_ was… undesirable.

“You look _fine_ , pumpkin.” Jack said impatiently, putting a hand on Rhys’ back, which finally got Rhys to step into the car.

Jack shut the door as soon as Rhys’ butt hit the leather, making his way to his own side. He turned the key into the ignition quickly, grumbling something inaudible, pulling off the drive.

“How long is it ‘till your work?” Rhys questioned, getting comfortable in his seat as he watched Jack shift the gearbox, one hand on the steering wheel.

“Eh, thirty minutes.” Jack replied, looking sideways at Rhys. “Not that bad. Just a drive into town.”

“I’m so glad I’m gonna be with you all day.” Rhys commented quietly as he looked out of the windshield, smiling to himself. Jack let the comment slide, opting instead to work on the A/C, and a comfortable silence washed over the two.

“You, uh…” The older of the pair trailed off. “You sore, baby boy?”

“It’s not that bad. You were gentle with me.” Rhys replied looking down at his shoes as he felt Jack’s eyes on him. “Afterwards.”

“You think I was rough?”

“No, no, it was really…” Rhys started, still looking at his shoes as he chewed his bottom lip, trying to find the right word. “Perfect. G-good, is what I mean. Was I… okay?”

“Not gonna lie to you, cupcake, you were tight as hell.” Jack said loudly, and Rhys laughed lightly at how bold Jack’s remark was.

“Maybe I should loosen _myself_ up next time, if you’re saying you did such a bad job of it.” Rhys giggled, blurting out the words before he’d even thought about them.

“Are you questioning these magic hands? Didn’t take much to get you drooling last night. I bet I could get you begging for my fingers right here, right now.” Jack smirked, a devilish, challenging glint in his eye.

“Jack…” Rhys breathed, almost warning, biting his lip, bringing his eyes up over to the older man beside him.

“God, why’d you have to be so damn pretty?” Jack asked almost genuinely as he looked back at Rhys. “Don’t give me that playful look if you ain’t gonna deliver.”

“Who says I’m not delivering?” Rhys grinned, leaning over to touch Jack’s thigh confidently.

“Well, well, Rhysie.” Jack rolled his eyes and laughed, thoroughly amused by the adorableness of Rhys’ sudden burst of sureness. “You’re such a deprived little cock whore, hm?”

“So what if I am?” Rhys carried on reaching, moving his hand self-assuredly over to Jack’s crotch, moving his finger over the outline of Jack’s manhood.

Jack’s smirk grew wider, enamoured by the stupid, sloppy grin on Rhys’ face.

“If you can keep your horniness in check for two more minutes, pumpkin, we’re almost at Hyperion.”

…

Much to Rhys’ surprise, none of the employee’s at Jack’s company so much as batted an eyelid to see Rhys on their boss’s arm. Rhys should’ve really guessed that Jack was CEO – nobody Rhys had ever met before had the same air of commanding authority about them that Jack did – but walking through the halls of what Jack called Helios was a welcome and empowering feeling.

Despite being dressed in some band-merch skinny jeans and a halter, Rhys actually felt like a trophy wife, and it was _brilliant_.

“I like the colour scheme.” Rhys commented as they walked through the yellow-lined corridors, covered in Hyperion’s honeycomb insignia.

“Daddy’s choice.” Jack smiled, a hand on Rhys’ back as they reached an elevator, en route to his personal office on the top floor. The older man looked at Rhys hungrily, imagining him clad in those skimpy Hyperion pencil skirts and high heels. “You’d look good in gold.”

Rhys picked up on that hunger in an instant, popping a finger past his lips for a second out of habit. Fuelled by the playfulness he’d felt in the car ride, Rhys leaned over to Jack’s ear.

“Can we find somewhere private soon?”

Jack snickered lowly, a dark, suggestive look skirting across his features.

“Keep your pants on, you slut.”

“Don’t blame me!” Rhys stated defensively, glued to Jack’s side like a puppy as the pair walked through an office block full of people. Rhys lowered his voice too. “Look at what you’ve turned me into. It’s not my fault I’m so needy.”

Jack picked up the pace of his walking, turning down a hallway to an office marked _CEO_. He pushed on the frame of the metallic door, opening it ever so slightly, before Rhys caught him by the wrist, his eyes lustful.

“It’s not my fault that you’d get me bent over with a snap of your fingers.”

Jack’s hand dropped from the door, and Rhys bit his lip again, swaying around on the spot playfully, pushing his hips forward into Jack’s.

“Don’t you know I have work to do?” Jack’s brows furrowed. “Are you _trying_ to get me hard, you minx?”

Once again, Rhys spoke without thinking.

“That’s the end goal, stupid.”

“Where’s this insolence come from, hm, kitten?” Venom dripped from Jack’s words, poisonous and cutting, as he stared at Rhys angrily. The older man brought up a hand to slap Rhys’ clothed behind forcefully, squeezing the flesh in his hand hard enough to leave little red blotches.

“Ah!” Rhys nearly screamed as Jack used his other hand to push open the door fully, pushing Rhys inside before slamming his office shut again.

“Is daddy gonna have to spank it out of you?” Jack asked, tone harsh, as Rhys stumbled into his office, nearly tripping over his own feet.

“Yeah…” Rhys nearly pleaded, unable to contain his excitement at the prospect of being bent over Jack as his huge, powerful hand bared against his skin. “Yeah, do that! Mm…”

Jack scowled at the state Rhys had got himself into.

“Not much of a punishment if you want it, little whore.” The older man spat, and Rhys stood there, panting with arousal, the tent in his trousers becoming apparent. Despite his anger, Jack felt his dick twitch to life as his eyes wandered over to his desk. “Go and sit on the table before I pick you up and do it myself.”

Rhys opened his mouth as if he was trying to say something, but his breathy moans got stuck in his throat as he made his way towards the desk, sitting on the edge with his legs dangling. Jack followed the brunette, parting his legs open from his position on the table’s surface, wide enough for Jack to stand in-between them.

“Now, use both your hands on me.” Jack instructed, grabbing Rhys by both his wrists and resting them on his belt, which Rhys set to work on quickly. “Don’t even think about touching yourself, bitch.”

That last command stilled Rhys, his attention turning from Jack’s belt. The younger male felt his emotions run away from him as he realised Jack wasn’t happy with his behaviour.

“Oh, but, please, I need it, I-I’ve been a good boy! I’ve been good, I swear!”

“It’s no use getting upset. Snarky comments get punishments.” Jack finalised, and Rhys took in a shallow breath, blinking back the tears in his eyes as he fumbled with Jack’s belt, dropping it to the floor.

Rhys unzipped Jack’s pants, pleading at him for praise, but Jack offered none. Rhys’ mind scattered, and he felt panicked – he didn’t want to be punished.

“D-daddy… I’ll be good from now on, please! Please touch me! I-I need kisses, and hugs, and-”

“Once you’ve proved you deserve it.”

Rhys whimpered, pulling Jack’s hard erection out of his boxers, giving the length a few quick strokes before, upon Jack’s instruction, stroking harder. Rhys used both of his hands to cup and pump the older man’s cock; one hand working the base, the other playing with the leaking tip.

Rhys continued like that for a while until he felt the strain of his own arousal push up against the tight skinny jeans he was wearing, and he ached for release – to be touched and loved by Jack, but all the CEO offered was low groans and curses.

Tentatively, Rhys sped up his ministrations just a little, moving his fingers away from the head of Jack’s dick to grab at his hip. Rhys looked at Jack desperately, opening his mouth in a silent request, and Jack breathed out a _yes_. The brunette lowered his head, bending downwards to lap at the tip of Jack’s erection before sucking on it lightly.

“Am I doing good?” Rhys begged, lifting his head up to look at Jack. “Please, please, can you touch me?”

Jack licked his lips at the sight of Rhys underneath him, tears pooling past his eyes and down his cheeks. The older man brought up his hand to rest on Rhys’ cheek, stroking him lightly with his thumb, and he leaned into the touch urgently.

“See what you’ve done? I could’ve been nice, but you decided to speak out of line.” Jack finally spoke, disregarding Rhys’ pleas. The brunette gagged on his cries, still desperately pumping Jack’s thick erection in his hands.

“I’m so ashamed of myself, Jack, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please forgive me…” He repeated over and over, voice thick and whiny, blinking through the tears. Rhys titled his head down again, sniffling and whimpering as he wrapped his lips around Jack’s head again, rubbing the precum around with his tongue, and Jack felt his hips subconsciously jerk forward.

 

“Such a pretty face…” Jack murmured, quietly and lowly, holding Rhys’ cheek and running his thumb over it preciously, losing himself as he watched the brunette take his cock into his mouth over and over.

Jack shuddered as he finally released into Rhys’ throat. Rhys moaned – high-pitched and whiny – as he tried to swallow every drop of Jack’s cum. Rhys tried his best to lap up the thick strands that he didn’t catch in his mouth, licking Jack’s softening dick clean.

“Mm… good boy.” Jack groaned, petting Rhys’ hair fondly, and Rhys looked up to Jack almost immediately, eyes wide and pleading, still wet with tears.

“I’m am? Y-you really mean it?” The brunette whimpered, pawing at Jack’s chest, letting out tiny cries as he tried to calm himself down.

“Yes, baby. You redeemed yourself so well. Now, shush, no more tears.” Jack tried, running his hands over Rhys’ shoulders and back, trying not to be too concerned by the way Rhys shivered as he continued to cry.

“I-I can’t help it, I feel so bad, I made such a mess, I can’t do anything right...” Rhys wailed to himself sadly, mumbling and tripping over his words, suddenly inconsolable and crying again.

“Woah there, princess, there’s no need for that.” Jack shushed as he bent down to Rhys’ level, running his thumb across Rhys’ face where the tear-tracks had pooled. “Dry those gorgeous eyes.”

“I’m just so sorry…” Rhys sniffed, leaning into Jack’s hands, nuzzling wherever Jack touched him.

“There’s no need to be. Daddy forgives you, and everything’s okay.” Jack assured, but Rhys kept sobbing softly.

Jack stood with Rhys for a good few minutes, listening as Rhys’ pitiful cries didn’t seem to stop. He looked around for something to help, eyes falling on the chair behind his desk. “Would you like to sit on daddy’s lap? Would that make it better?”

Rhys nodded, wordlessly sniffling. Jack reached under his arms to haul Rhys up, carrying him around his desk to sit them both down on the seat.

“I’m sorry, Rhys. That was too much. I got caught up in the moment.”

“It wasn’t… it was…” Rhys finally started, trailing off each time he started a sentence. Jack waited for him, and Rhys smiled solemnly when he realised he wasn’t being rushed. “I just don’t like being a bad boy.”

“Only love and kisses from now on, hm?” Jack tried, and a huge weight lifted off of his shoulders as he saw Rhys’ eyes light up.

“Pinky promise?” Rhys asked pseudo-sarcastically, holding his finger up, and Jack smiled at the way his bite came flooding back.

“Promise.” Jack grinned as they locked pinky fingers, and Rhys used it as an excuse to pull himself closer to Jack, stealing a kiss on the cheek. Rhys giggled, and Jack laughed too, rubbing his nose against Rhys’.

“Now, uh,” Jack started, shaking off the weird bubbles of affection that popped in his chest, “I should probably start work. There’s a water cooler over there if you need a drink.”

Rhys giggled again.

“So, I can sit on your lap all day?”

“As long as you don’t get in the way of my keyboard…” Jack mused, re-adjusting Rhys. “…princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (●♡∀♡))ヾ☆*。hope you enjoyed~!! why not check out some more sin by me http://archiveofourown.org/works/5789980
> 
> and feel free to drop me a message at http://supermagically.tumblr.com/ !! it means a lot to me to hear your feedback and I love talkin' bout rhack (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑
> 
> see you next update!! ♥


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, well, well, look who's finally back. *gross sobbing* I'M SORRY SCHOOL'S BEEN SO DAMN BUSY WAHHHHHH
> 
> and this chapter is so. so long. I don't even? I've been working on this since like 8pm. It's 2am right now. I'm so tired. somebody hold me. I should've been doing physics homework but NOPE 
> 
> this chapter doesn't even have nsfw in it what the hell am I doing 
> 
> *rolls around tiredly*

“You’re such a good cook, Rhysie.” Jack smiled as he looked over to Rhys, who was sat at the side of his chair at the head of the table. Rhys responded by covering his mouth with his hand and giggling, looking away from the older man, embarrassed by the compliment. Jack, of course, only used this reaction as fuel for more compliments, eager to entice more adorable reactions from the brunette in the chair beside him. “Nah, nah, don’t blush, baby, you _are_!”

Rhys giggled again before picking up more food from his plate with his silver fork, popping the pastry-coated beef pie he’d been slaving over for hours into his mouth. He had to admit – over the past few day’s he’d spend becoming even more accustomed to living with Jack and Angel, he’d really learned how to master the expensive oven in the kitchen.

As an added bonus to Rhys adapting to Jack’s life, he’d had finally found something to wear: an old dressing gown of Jack’s, which wasn’t too big for him if he tied the cord tight enough, and it was incredibly comfortable. Unfortunately, it was yellow, but, well, everything of Jack’s was yellow.

“Hell yeah, it is.” Angel commented in-between forkfuls of her own serving of Rhys’ cooking, chugging down a glass of cherry cola before speaking again, and Rhys’ mind clicked back onto the conversation. “I can’t remember the last time I ate food this good.”

Rhys smiled as he swallowed, his appreciation for the other two occupants of the dinner table apparent. “You two are too nice to me, I swear. It just goes to show what you can do when you’ve got good ingredients. Thanks for ordering that delivery from the supermarket for me by the way, honey.” The brunette said, and Jack hummed nonchalantly in response.

Rhys would be lying if he told himself that he wasn’t enjoying being sat at the table with Jack and his daughter. It was like they were a real family, and the thought made Rhys’ heart flutter.

“How was school today, Angel?”

Angel took another bite, and her expression dropped. “Same old crap.”

“Ah, ah, language.” Jack was quick to intervene, deadpanning the sentence – he’d spoken it a thousand times. Rhys broke out into a smile again – Jack had a terrible habit of swearing, but he always stopped Angel from cursing.

Well, most of the time, anyway. There’d been a few cases that Rhys could think of where Angel had been swearing and Jack had let it slide.

“Uh, I mean, same old boring stuff.” Angel corrected herself – and Rhys was hastened to add that she’d done it almost obediently. “Sorry. Dinner table. We’re with Rhys, right.”

Rhys looked at Angel confusedly, but he decided to shift the conversation anyway. “And you, Jack? How was your day?”

“Eh, same old crap.” Jack stated as he smirked, eyes gleaming.

“Hey!” Angel nearly shouted, her eyebrows furrowed, offended, looking like she was about to throw her fork at Jack. At that, the older man burst out into laughter, and Angel crinkled her nose up, ready to argue about how unfair it was that Jack could say those sorts of things and she couldn’t.

However, before she could, Jack calmed down, shifting his attention to Rhys. “How’s you, beautiful?”

Rhys rolled his eyes as Angel crossed her arms over her chest. They were both such _children_ sometimes. Even so, Rhys decided to humour Jack’s question.

“Bored of being inside, I guess. I’m still thinking about Helios.”

“Heh.” Jack let out, showing his teeth in a devilish grin as he thought back to the day he’d taken Rhys to work, earlier in the week.

Angel picked up on the grin immediately.

“Ew, gross, why are you making that face? What did you do?”

Jack’s smirk widened as he leaned over to Angel, and Rhys flushed white. “Between you and me, Angel, I think Rhys is gonna get arrested for public indecency.”

“Jack!” Rhys panicked, eager to shut Jack up. “Don’t tell her that!”

Jack flashed Rhys another look of devilishness.

“What, that her clothes were too small for you and you were showing everyone your midriff?”

A moment of silence passed as the panic washed away from Rhys entirely. “Oh, god, Jack, I thought you were going to…” The brunette whispered, mainly to himself, as he put his head in his hands, elbows resting on the dinner table. “Christ!”

“You thought I was going to what, baby boy?” Jack asked in the most innocent voice he could muster (which, for the record, was not innocent at all).

“So…” Angel regarded them both incredulously, looking at them with shifty eyes like they were both insane. “You wore my stuff, then.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Rhys let out, an awkward, endearing smile working its way over his lips. “I mean, Jack said he was going to take me out to buy some things but-”

“Ah, right.” Jack cut Rhys off, gritting his teeth together, clicking his tongue as he finished the sentence.

“…What?” Rhys inquired, almost scared to ask.

“Shit. That just reminded me.” Jack went on, standing up, not giving either of the two people still seated at the table any explanation as to what he was talking about.

“Reminds you what?” Angel tried, shooting Rhys a look of confusion, which Rhys replied to by shrugging, equally as lost.

Finally, Jack spoke. “Rhysie, get your ass up. We gotta go to the bank.”

“What?” Angel and Rhys spoke at the same time.

“Right now.”

“Why?” Rhys asked.

“I told ‘em I was going in today.”

“What for?” Angel questioned, still looking back and forth to Rhys, who was still as clueless as her.

“For Rhys a credit card.” Jack replied, as if the answer was obvious and not at all worth speaking.

Rhys, on the other hand, shot Jack an exasperated look as he rose from his seat, listening to the chair on the other side of the table squeak across the floor as Angel followed suit. “You didn’t tell me that was today!”

“I know. I forgot.” Jack said offhandedly, motioning at his daughter to go upstairs. “Angel, get Rhys something to wear. Please. Something nice? Now.”

“I can’t wear Angel’s clothes forever, you know.” Rhys commented, pulling the cord of his robe a little tighter as he noticed Jack’s eyes lazily trailing across his chest.

“Well, we can go shopping.” Jack rolled his eyes, not really paying attention. Breathing out, Jack checked his wristwatch. “It’s not too late. Just hurry up.”

“Wait, wait…” Angel insisted before she smiled as sweetly as she could. “Can _I_ buy some new clothes?”

…

Driving into town with Angel in the back seat was much different to the drive to Helios – namely, there was much less flirting and a lot more of listening to Jack and Angel argue over which CD they were going to listen to. Since Jack hadn’t put on music for their drive to his company earlier in the week, Rhys had concluded that Jack was picking fights with Angel for absolutely no reason at all, and by the time the three were pulling up to the bank, Rhys was just about ready to get out of the car, slam the door, walk away, and never come back.

“You don’t _understand_ what good music _is_ , Jack!”

“You listen to me, you little monster! It’s my car and I’m the one driving and I’ll listen to whatever the hell I want to listen to! It’s not like your pissbaby boybands-”

“ _PISSBABY BOYBANDS_?!”

Rhys banged his forehead against the passenger seat window.

“I’LL KILL YOU!”

Angel lunged over the hand-break to grab Jack’s Taylor Swift CD, and promptly threw it out of the open backseat window.

“Taylor!” Jack screeched like he’d just lost a part of himself, and Angel cackled malevolently, clutching her sides.

Rhys banged his forehead against the window again.

…

Jack’s bank was about as regal-looking as his home and his workplace, although Rhys didn’t know what he expected otherwise. Back in his old town – with Fiona and Sasha – he used to visit the bank whenever the ATM near the motel stopped working to withdraw his meagre part-time wage.

Rhys’ bank had grotty green carpets and the receptionists ran on caffeine pills. They all looked miserable and dressed in cheap suits, and the customers always looked Rhys up and down; like they were hungry for his money or… something else. It was a small building; it reeked of ink and instant coffee, and the notes they handed out were always crumpled.

This bank, however, was huge, and seemed to only handle bills that exceeded the $50 mark. The people inside – both clientele and employees – dressed expensively, and the floors were made out of marble, which made all the rich peoples’ heels clink loudly wherever they walked.

To put it bluntly, Rhys felt out of place.

At least he was next to Jack. You see, Jack was wearing sneakers.

“So, this card has an allowance of $50,000 per calendar month, yes?” The accountant sitting across from Rhys and Jack spoke, and Rhys’ eyes fell back onto the task at hand, drifting away from the hustle and bustle of the bank he’d been looking at.

There were papers on the desk in front of them, but all Rhys could see was incomprehensible numbers and unreadable fine-print that he was more than sure Jack could understand for him.

“That’s a platinum standard card right there, Rhysie.” Jack whispered into the brunette’s ear, and suddenly he was being handed a card – it was gold, and had his name printed onto it, along with the bank’s fancy gilded DAHL logo.

“Uh… I…” Rhys trailed off, looking back and forth at the piece of plastic in his hands and Jack. “Thank you.” He smiled, before grimacing inwardly at himself for reacting so dimwittedly.

“Nothing but the best for you, sugar.” Jack said as he reached over to Rhys’ thigh and squeezed, and Rhys let out an involuntary and very unappealing _ugh_ sound, which Jack seemed to find hilarious.

The bank teller, however, looked very unamused. He gave a cough before pushing a piece of paper towards Jack, handing the CEO a pen. “And, to clarify, this is coming from your personal account, Mr. Lawrence-”

“Yup.” Jack cut the man off as he signed the contract effortlessly and automatically, swirling his signature onto the paper as he did countless times every day at work.

Rhys idly thought that Lawrence was a nice name. Jack Lawrence. Angel Lawrence. Rhys Lawrence.

“And can you sign here please, sir.”

“What?!” Rhys’ voice cracked dramatically as he snapped his head back towards the bank teller as if he’d just been caught doing something illegal before he composed himself, slowly grabbing the pen from Jack’s hands to mark his own signature on the contract, putting the card he’d been holding down on the table. “Um, I mean, ah, yes, of course.”

Rhys cringed inwardly as he realised that he’d not yet developed a proper signature, much less tried to write one with a fountain pen. He hesitated before touching the ink pen to the paper, and it blotched across the line messily. Rhys wrote his name and his last initial, much slower than Jack had done.

It looked so sloppy next to Jack’s beautiful handwriting, and the bank teller tutted as he filed the contract away. Rhys crouched further into his chair, but Jack didn’t seem to do much as even notice Rhys’ chaotic attempt at signing.

“So, we can use this bad boy today?” Jack smirked, grabbing the card from the table again, putting an arm around Rhys, almost proudly. Rhys leaned into the touch and secretly wished that it was socially acceptable for him to start sucking his thumb – or, at least that it was socially acceptable to be on Jack’s lap right now.

“It’ll be valid within the hour, yes, sir. Since you, uh, put this card one such high priority for us.” The bank teller spoke, almost exasperatedly, holding back from speaking out of turn in front of Handsome Jack. “If you require anything else?” The man asked, but Jack waved a hand to say no. “Ah, then if you’ll excuse me, sirs, we’re all finished.”

The man stood up, and Rhys looked at Jack as he felt the older man’s arm move away. Jack was standing too, and he offered Rhys a hand, winking as he did so.

“You hear that, Rhysie? You got yourself some cash.” Jack smirked as Rhys took his hand, ushering the slighter man away from the bank teller’s desk.

“I sure did, Jack…” Rhys murmured, turning to look at Jack again, his cheeks rosy from the shock of suddenly owning so much money. “I don’t know how I’m ever gonna thank you.”

“A kiss would be a good start.” Jack replied mischievously, and Rhys popped a finger in his mouth to chew at his nail sheepishly before pulling Jack forward and connecting Jack’s lips with his own. Jack was so gentle, and kissing him felt so right – Rhys didn’t want to move away, especially as Jack brought his hand to rest on the small of the brunette’s back to hold him closely, tenderly.

Finally, Jack pulled away, and Rhys’ eyes fluttered open. There was an amused look on Jack’s face, and Rhys awkwardly wondered if he’d done something terribly, blatantly wrong.

“Well, well, well, Rhysie. I meant like, a peck on the cheek, but whatever works for you.”

Rhys’ eyes opened wide in horror. “Oh! Oh, god! I, um, I-”

“Kidding, kidding! Jesus, don’t worry. You can, uh. You can kiss me like _that_ whenever you like.” Jack tormented, scratching the back of his neck as he wiggled his eyebrows, and Rhys’ panic subdued. Jack shook his head at Rhys’ silly reactions, opting to grab him by the hand and lead him towards the exit instead of teasing the poor thing further. “Alright, let’s blow this joint, go and buy you somethin’ classy.”

Rhys nodded as Jack ushered him around once again.

“Angel!” Jack called over to the black-haired teen who’d taken it upon herself to combine three chairs to make a DIY-recliner. Angel pulled out her earphones and motioned at Jack to repeat what he’d said. “We’re all done, precious.”

“Finally.” She rolled her eyes, jumping off of her stack of chairs, catching up to Rhys and Jack.

“So, baby boy, what’s your first stop? I mean, I don’t wanna be shopping forever or anything but, y’know. Go nuts. You need some stuff.” Jack ranted as the three of them exited the bank, and Rhys looked helpless as he stared at the large expanse of shops on the other side of the road, completely not used to having a choice of where to shop. Usually, he’d just have to flock to whichever store had a ‘sale’ sign next to it.

But, hey, he’d just been given a DAHL platinum credit card, whatever that meant. Maybe it was time to live dangerously.

“I-I’m thinking maybe Prada, or Dior?” Rhys asked, unsure of if Jack had any qualms about certain brands or stores. “I… I’ve always wanted Prada shoes…”

“Ooh, fancy.” Jack chuckled, enamoured by how happy Rhys looked. “We’ll get you lookin’ like a princess, princess.”

“But!” Rhys protested, fiddling with the hem of the black sweatshirt Angel had given him to wear, a nervous habit he’d been picking up. “I’ll look so silly going in one of those stores dressed like…” The brunette started, his words failing him as he looked over to Angel, who, in turn, looked up from her phone to give him a scowl. “Uh.”

“I’ll take that as a complement.” The teenager said, straight-faced and blunt.

“Don’t be silly, you’re gorgeous.” Jack reasoned, not listening to Angel’s input at all as he fawned over Rhys, who fell for the show of affection unrequitedly.

The two made their way across the road with Angel unhappily in tow.

“Can’t we go to All Saints?” Angel asked, stropping. Jack looked over his shoulder and put a finger to his lips, mouthing something about _shutting up_ because _it’s Rhys’ day, not yours_. This act simply made Angel more moody as she tugged at Rhys’ other arm, trying to get the brunette’s attention instead.

Jack had other plans.

“You gonna buy some makeup as well, today, baby? You’d look cute with a little blush.”

Rhys giggled, and Angel huffed in annoyance.

“There’s a Drop Dead warehouse like, five minutes away from here!” She pleaded, but neither her father nor Rhys were listening by this point.

“I-I’d like a handbag, too. And maybe some jewellery?” Rhys giggled, grasping onto Jack’s large hand excitedly.

“Or a tiara.” Jack smirked.

“Rhys!” Angel shouted, and the sudden outburst made Rhys jolt back to look at the teenager shouting his name. Jack angrily mouthed something else at Angel along the lines of _you can be such a little shit sometimes_ , but Angel didn’t care.

“Yeah? Something the matter?” Rhys asked, genuinely concerned.

“I don’t wanna shop at all those snob stores.” Angel moaned childishly, and Rhys awed sympathetically, placing the hand that he’d been holding Jack’s with on her shoulder.

“Well, it’s Rhys’ first day with his credit card, Angel. Don’t be selfish, now.” Jack protested, anger lacing his words just enough for Angel to pick up on them, but of course, the undertones flew straight over Rhys’ head. The teenager smiled at her father maliciously, content that she’d won the war for Rhys’ affection.

The victory didn’t last long.

“Jack’s right, though. I really would like to buy some designer things, if that’s okay.” Rhys explained in a way that made it infuriatingly hard to be annoyed with him.

“Oh, you’re kidding me.” She scowled, looking at Jack with contempt as he stuck his tongue out at her.

“Come on.” The brunette asked, calmly and quietly. “You won’t have to keep lending me your stuff if I buy my own things.”

Angel contemplated it.

“Please? For me?” Rhys held out his pinky.

After a moment, Angel linked it with her own.

“Fine.”

…

Rhys walked out of the dressing room in yet another short, form-fitting baby pink dress, and Angel felt the sudden urge to see if she if she had enough willpower to make her own head implode. This particular dress, to Angel, was just another variation of one of the countless others he’d already purchased from countless other designer brands. He’d bought gold ones, black ones, sparkly ones, satin ones, velvet ones – but, so far, Angel had only counted one dress that reached past Rhys’ knees. Yes, the brunette had been picking them up to try on, but Jack seemed to reject every dress that didn’t show off just enough skin to not count as indecent. Angel figured that the only reason Jack had said the long one looked good was because it was backless.

Angel and Jack were sat on chairs outside the dressing room’s curtain, and Rhys had been periodically coming out in a slightly different dress for the past hour and a half. Yes, there’d been the occasional time when Rhys would show off a handbag or some shoes, but after spending forty-five minutes in an accessory store, Angel guessed Rhys was done with handbags and shoes for now.

“Oh, baby! That colour’s so sexy. It’s gorgeous, like you.” Jack praised, winking, motioning for Rhys to twirl.

The dress flew up enough for Angel and Jack to get a view of Rhys’ ass – _again_ – and, predictably, Jack was very happy with the results.

“You think? I’m gonna buy this one, too.” Rhys beamed, positively glowing, before looking at the black-haired teenager leaning on one of the countless bags they’d amassed over the evening. She gave an okay sign with her hand, and Rhys smiled wider, trotting off back behind the dressing room’s curtain, his ridiculously high heels clattering against the store’s floorboards and his tiny hips swaying like a girl as he did so.

For Christ’s sake, he could barely walk in them.

Then again, it was funny to see how much taller Rhys was in the heels he’d bought than Jack. Before, the two were about even – but now, Rhys had a good few inches on the older man. Strangely enough, Jack didn’t seem to mind.

“Rhysie, try that blue one on next.” He called over to Rhys. “That blue one was…” Jack whistled in-between words, “… _nice_.”

“Oh, Jack, I know you liked the blue one but it was so short!” Was Rhys’ reply as he shouted through the curtain, and Angel’s eyes rolled on command, because Rhys was right, the blue dress Jack had picked out was much more of a strap of material than a dress.

“It’ll show off your legs!” Jack reasoned, calling back. “Just try it on!”  

“Okay, okay, give me a minute.” Rhys replied, shoving his arm through a crack in the curtain, the baby-pink dress he’d just had on in his hand. “Add this one to the pile, please.”

Jack whistled to let Rhys know he was ready to catch the garment as the slighter male threw it to him. Jack caught it, and laid it down next to the rest of the clothes and shoes Rhys had picked from this store, right next to the other designer-brand bags.

A minute or so passed, and Angel sighed audibly. Jack looked over to her, an eyebrow quirked.

“You know, this is like the tenth shop we’ve been in.” The teenager complained.

“So?”

“So I _hate_ shopping.”

“Yeah, but Rhys loves it. You’re being moody.”

Angel thought about Jack’s words for a while.

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m just bored.”

“S’alright. Be as moody as you want. I don’t really like it either, but I wanna make Rhys happy, y’know?” Jack whispered, quiet enough so Rhys wouldn’t hear it through the curtain in front of them.

Angel and Jack smiled at each other in understanding.

“Jack!” Rhys erupted into laughter from the other side of the dressing room, almost wheezing by the hilarity of whatever he was doing. “It’s – hah! – it’s so short I think I’m gonna die!”

“Show me, babe, holy crap.”

“Oh my gosh, Jack, no, I can’t, I think it’s inappropriate.” Rhys spoke quickly, in a hushed tone, like he’d been scandalized. “You’re going to have to come in instead. I can’t go out in public like this.”

Angel looked around sceptically. “The dressing room’s empty, though.”

Jack, however, stood up and pulled the curtain open, immediately giggling at Rhys’ current state. Angel tilted her head around to try and see Rhys from past Jack’s broad form to no avail, especially as Jack stepped into the dressing room and closed the curtain behind him.

“Oh, _Rhys_!” He gasped, and the giggling increased. “You naughty thing!”

“Sh, sh, I _told_ you it was inappropriate!” Rhys laughed, and he squealed – a squeal that Angel recognised as the one he made when Jack grabbed him unexpectedly.

“Oh, you’re _so_ buying it.” Jack laughed darkly, and Rhys squealed again. “C’mere, you.”

Angel groaned inwardly as she tried to block out whatever was going on behind the curtain, reaching for her phone to text someone for help. Immediately, Angel pressed on Gaige’s number; she’d been texting the red-headed mechanic all day, especially when Rhys had dragged them into a makeup store – because _that_ was torture.

There was nowhere to sit in a makeup store.

_> I think they’re having sex in the changing room and I don’t know what to do._

A response came in immediately.

It was not the response Angel wanted.

_> Gaige: Oh my god. Send me a picture._

Angel prayed to the Gods to open a hole in the ground to swallow her, but after she realised that wasn’t going to work, she typed out a response.

_> EW, NO, I WASN’T BEING LEGIT. _

_> Gaige: Aw. Bummer. I bet Rhys has a nice ass._

_> It’s not even. He’s like a total twink. It’s tiny. He has a smaller ass than me. Oh my god. Stop._

_> Gaige: So like, how does he even take dick?_

_> OH MY GOD. STOP._

Angel sighed loudly as she placed her phone back in her pocket, concluding that there was absolutely no way out of the hell Rhys had landed her in. The black-haired teenager groaned as she rubbed her temples, covering her eyes with her palms, wondering whether or not she’d been damned to spend eternity in this designer store.

“Angel?” Rhys asked, crouching down and prodding her, which shook Angel from her trance-like contemplation quite effectively. “I tried on everything, and I think this is the last store I wanted to check out.”

Angel waited – hoping, praying – that Rhys would tell her it’s time to leave.

“You good to go?”

_Thank God._

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it ❤ like, for serious, all the kudos/comments/bookmarks mean so much to me and *more gross sobbing* I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS
> 
> I don't even know what this chapter was I'm not going to lie to you. also, credit cards? I don't know how they work. 
> 
> as always, ily, and if you wanna talk about rhack or borderlands or just trash in general, here's ma tumblr http://supermagically.tumblr.com/
> 
> (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑ see you next update!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (⊙△⊙✿)... oh gosh. I worked on this chapter *forever*!! like seriously WHY do I take forever to write things arghhhhhh 
> 
> huge huge HUGE shoutouts to @biscuitrampage (on tumblr) and @BelowZer0 (on ao3) for beta'ing this for me! (๑•́ ₃ •̀๑) it's... very early in the morning right now and I could barely write**** (edit: oh my god I put 'right') coherent sentences without their help so MWAH MUCH LOVE TO U BOTH!!
> 
> warning: this chapter is NSFW as hell!!! (ﾟωﾟ) ♡~THERE IS ONLY SIN FROM THIS POINT ONWARDS~♡

Rhys shifted around on the human-sized hot water bottle beneath him, snuggling into the smooth safeness of the crook of Jack’s neck. The older man was snoring loudly and his chest was heaving up and down as he did so; but Rhys didn’t mind – Jack’s snoring was comforting in a sort of manly, protective way that Rhys couldn’t quite describe. Unfortunately for Rhys, he was dolefully wriggling around on top of Jack two minutes later anyway; once he was awake, he wasn’t the type of person to fall back asleep easily, even if it was Saturday, and he wasn’t going to have to wake up for Jack anyway.

“Babe.” Jack groaned, voice hoarse from all the noise he’d been making in his sleep. “Stop squirming.”

“Can’t get cosy.” Rhys complained, blinking to try and force his eyes shut again for just an hour or so more. Jack sighed, shifting Rhys over to his other shoulder, bringing a hand down to Rhys’ hip to hike his lower body up a little more to make the both of them more comfortable.

“Well, my chest’s covered in drool, but’cha don’t hear me whining.” Jack grumbled a little, falling back into half-sleep. On reflex, Rhys jolted up, and cringed at the mess he’d made on the expanse of Jack’s upper body. The slighter man brought his thumb up to his mouth and pushed it past his lips guiltily, using his other hand to card through the hairs on Jack’s chest.

“Sorry, daddy.” Rhys let out, speaking in gurgles as he tried to sound words out past his thumb. The older man opened his eyes just a little to see the wondrous sight of his little plaything hovering over him, probably not aware that he made such a good sight with only a pair of panties covering him.

Jack had tried to convince Rhys to sleep naked like him, but Rhys had insisted on wearing at least a pair of panties and some socks – his reasoning being that he didn’t want his behind or his feet to get cold during the night.

“ _Oh_ .” Jack smirked, that all-too-familiar amusement playing over his features once again. “We’re playing _that_ game, are we?”

“Game?” Rhys pondered out loud in feigned innocence, shifting around again to straddle Jack completely so he could see the older man’s face properly. Jack, of course, used this move as an excuse to snake his hands back to Rhys’ hips and hold them down against him. Rhys groped the muscles on Jack’s chest appreciatively, and Jack let out a moan of gratitude.

“Wanna go, little boy?” Jack asked, and Rhys flirtatiously pushed his pelvis down as Jack’s hands pushed him too. Rhys smiled teasingly, trailing his fingertips down the expanse of Jack’s bare skin, stopping as he reached Jack’s hand, pulling it up by the wrist so he could suck on Jack’s fingers instead.

“Go? We’re going somewhere?” Rhys spoke, popping Jack’s fingers out of his mouth as he did so. “I guess we could, since you don’t have work today.”

Jack hummed lazily, more interested in how Rhys looked with his mouth full, tongue lapping wetly at the digits inside - more interested in remembering what Rhys looked like with something bigger inside his mouth.

“We should do something nice today, daddy.” The slighter man whispered nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t grinding against Jack as he said it; as if he couldn’t feel Jack’s half-hardness make itself present against Rhys’ very thin, lacy panties.

“Don’t you worry, kitten. I’ve got a couple nice things in mind.” Jack mused, mind hazy through Rhys’ wonderful ministrations and playful touches. The older man was laid down, watching Rhys’ little display before he spoke up again.

“Mm, I’m hungry…” The brunette smiled, batting his eyelashes, mischievousness playing against his normally soft features.

“Oh, yeah, baby boy?” Jack growled, voice low and demanding, completely falling for Rhys’ delightfully enticing act. “Tell daddy what you’re hungry for.”

“Oh, well, I…” Rhys sighed, trailing off as he leaned closer to Jack’s face, whining dramatically as his lips brushed against Jack’s, enraptured by the hardness pressed against his pelvis.

Rhys held up the act for a moment longer before he broke into a bout of giggles.

“I guess I’m pretty hungry for some breakfast.” He grinned, biting his lip in pride that he’d made Jack so caught up in the moment he’d created.

Jack blinked a few times as his grip on Rhys’ hips lessened, and Rhys’ hands stopped roaming over his chest. It took a while for Rhys’ sentence to process in Jack’s sex-fuelled, drowsy state of mind – but even once the words clicked, he was still baffled.

“…Breakfast?” He exclaimed, looking at Rhys incredulously, completely shocked that he hadn’t answered with something along the lines of _oh, Jack, I’m hungry for your big, huge, yummy-_

“Ten minutes, I’m gonna go make something.”

Rhys stood up and stepped off the bed, sauntering casually over to his dresser to pull out his flowery, silky gold pyjama set he’d bought last week and start lazily putting them on. Jack choked on his words, eyes flying from the spot where Rhys had been straddling him to over where Rhys was now – strolling towards his bedroom door, turning the handle. Jack scrambled upwards, fighting with the bedsheets that he got tangled with in the process as he called out for Rhys to stop.

“Wh- Rhys!” He blurted out, steadying himself on his knees as he looked at Rhys desperately.

“Hm?” Rhys smiled, sweet and innocent. Jack, however, wasn’t exactly captivated by the sweetness.

“You can’t leave me like this!” He all but shouted, motioning with both hands to his half-hard crotch. Rhys allowed his smile to widen, showing the older man his pearly whites as he walked through the door, closing it again with a click as the latches connected.

Rhys giggled, proud of himself that he’d been able to get away with being so naughty, thoroughly entertained by the bewildered look on Jack’s face. Rhys looked down the hallway as he fixed his pyjama shirt’s buttons, unhappy with the sloppy way he’d fastened them in the rush to leave Jack high and dry, and his eyes fell on Angel’s room.

As he always did before speaking to her, Rhys knocked on the teenager’s door.

“Angel?” He called out, voice just loud enough to permeate through to Angel.

“Mm?” She replied dozily, barely even awake and not in any state to start thinking about communicating like a proper human being.

“I’m making breakfast. Would you like anything?”

A moment of silence passed by, and Angel’s bed creaked. She groaned tiredly – loud enough for Rhys to hear it from the other side of the door – and managed to speak out a single word.

“Pancakes.”

Rhys smiled at Angel’s sleepy voice, turning away from the door, not willing to bug her any more than he had to. “Alright, be with you in a second.”

“ _Oi_.” Jack grumbled as Rhys passed his bedroom, and Rhys tutted, shaking his head as Jack stuck his groggy face out of the door, expression crumpled up and sour. “Don’t think I didn’t hear that. How come I don’t get room service?”

Rhys casually ignored Jack’s complaints in favour of trotting down the stairs instead. “Because you’re big enough to get your own pancakes, duh.”

…

True to his word, Rhys was marching back up the regal steps of Jack’s first floor within ten minutes of marching down them, a piping hot and deliciously well-crafted plate of fresh pancakes in his hand. The brunette held a cup of coffee in the other – a huge mug of milky, creamy, sugary latte, just the way Jack liked it – and a bottle of syrup rested between his elbow and his side, as he didn’t trust himself enough to put the right amount on Angel’s pancakes. He’d already eaten his own portion of pancakes, which had mainly consisted of rejected not-quite-circular-enough ones that he’d made for the dark-haired girl upstairs.

Rhys pried Angel’s bedroom door open with little ease, trying his best to hook the doorknob open with his hip without bending too much that Jack’s coffee got spilt. By some miracle, Rhys walked past the threshold of Angel’s room with neither plate nor mug harmed, and he was surprised to see that the teenager had fallen back into what seemed to be a very deep sleep.

She was snoring rather loudly for a teenage girl as well. Rhys shrugged, and guessed that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree as he laid the plate of pancakes and the syrup bottle down on her nightstand.

“Hey there, sleepyhead.” Rhys whispered, bending down, and Angel’s snores came to an abrupt halt. “Got your ‘cakes. Get ‘em while they’re hot, okay?”

“Will do. Smells good.” Angel replied, her eyes shut tightly, and Rhys got the sense that the pancakes were going to be cold by the time she was awake enough to chew. Nevertheless, Rhys had to admit that Angel was quite adorable when she was tired, and not spitting sarcastic insults at anything with a beating heart.

Rhys lingered at Angel’s bedside for a moment, studying her face. At a glance, Angel and Jack really looked nothing like each other – Angel was so much paler than Jack, and her eyes were much bigger than his, but they had similar jawlines, and their mouths were almost identical.

Rhys drew a hand up to push Angel’s hair away from her forehead, and planted a very quick kiss there. She hummed with her eyes still closed, and Rhys hummed back, before bending back upwards again and turning to leave.

“Thanks, mommy...” Angel murmured, sighing as she started snoring again, but the words fell on deaf ears. By the time the sleepy sentence had passed her lips, Rhys had already closed the door, his footsteps dropping softly on the hallway’s carpet as he returned to Jack’s room. The black-haired teenager turned around in her blankets, wrapping herself up in a bundle of duvet covers.

Rhys, on the other hand, turned the doorknob to Jack’s bedroom, opening it just an inch and laughing as he saw Jack laid across the bed on his stomach, groaning to himself, one hand shoved in the direction of his crotch.

“Hey.” The slighter man breathed out, and Jack tilted his head. He gave Rhys a look of absolute contempt, before turning around and snapping his fingers to instruct Rhys to come and straddle him again. Rhys strutted over, twirling a stray strand of hair around with his finger as he did so, the other hand holding Jack’s coffee.

Just as Rhys was about to get on the bed, Jack stopped him.

“Oh?” Jack questioned, sarcasm dripping from the sound. “I thought you said you _weren’t_ bringing me breakfast in bed.”

“Well, I know you can’t live without your coffee, so I figured I’d be nice and get you a mug.” Rhys smiled, offering Jack the still-hot latte. The older man took it thankfully, drinking most of the contents down as if it were a shot, letting out a sigh of relief as the mug left his lips again.

“You make good coffee, Rhysie.” Jack said, putting the empty mug down on the nightstand beside him. “Good enough to redeem that little stunt you pulled earlier.”

“Stunt? What stunt?” Rhys chimed, feigning innocence, basking in how soft Jack had been handling him – he’d been toying around with Jack for days, being a _very_ disobedient boy – but nothing seemed to push Jack over the edge recently.

“You know _exactly_ what stunt, you naughty thing.” Jack hisses, and Rhys bit his lip in glee, very ready for the harsh treatment that was sure to follow. “You’d better pick up where we left off if you want to avoid a spanking.”

Rhys sighed, pulling at the hem of his pyjama shirt to expose his skin to Jack on reflex.

“Oh, no, daddy. I definitely want to avoid _that_.”

Jack’s eyes roamed over the milky, soft skin Rhys had shown him. He growled, hungry and low, propping himself up against his pillows.

“Then get over here, Rhys.”

Rhys nearly quivered when Jack used his real name – a very rare occurrence that Jack seemed to use to his advantage every time, because he knew exactly how to say it to make Rhys’ mind feel hazy. In a rush to feel Jack, skin on skin, Rhys unbuttoned his shirt and threw it on the floor, leaving his pants and underwear in a crumpled pile alongside it. Jack basked in the way Rhys exposed himself so shamelessly in front of him, and watched intently on the way his lithe, skinny muscles moved as Rhys went to set himself on the older man’s hips.

Jack whistled, and Rhys looked up to him, expectant and awaiting.

“Baby, I think we should try something different today.” He smirked, bringing up a hand to rest against Rhys’ cheek to stroke it gently despite the rather commanding words. The slighter man gulped as he felt his blood rush south at the suggestion, fueled by either danger or love – he couldn’t quite pinpoint which.

“Anything.” Rhys whispered, not meaning to sound quite so desperate, but Jack went on regardless.

“Well, I figure it’s just not fair that I’ve not had any breakfast yet. I mean, really, babe, I’m starving.” He explained sarcastically, the sardonic bite in his tone rising up again, mixed with a spark of suggestiveness. “Suppose I’m just going to have to eat you out instead.”

Rhys blanched.

He wasn’t sure whether or not he’d heard of that term before.

“You mean like... with your mouth? Your tongue? On my-”

“Clever boy.” Jack assured proudly, shooting Rhys a wink, and the brunette immediately remembered why he yearned for Jack’s praise so obsessively – it felt _so good_.

“So… so you want me to go… here…” Rhys hesitated, his confidence coming and going in bursts as he slowly crawled his way up Jack’s body, and Jack shifted downwards on the bed, giving Rhys enough leeway to tightly grab the bedframe, willing the red in his cheeks to go away just a little as he felt Jack position them correctly.

Tentatively, Rhys craned his head enough so he could see his ass over Jack’s mouth, and Jack was licking his lips, spreading the brunette’s cheeks and admiring the view. Rhys snapped his gaze back upwards and muffled a whine, gripping the bedframe so hard his knuckles were white.

“Am I… in a good… place?” Rhys panted, fighting with himself as he struggled to stop being so turned on even though Jack hadn’t even started. He whined out loud as he heard Jack coating his fingers in saliva, and desperately sought out praise that he was doing alright.

“Daddy? Am I doing okay?”

“You’re doing beautifully, pumpkin.” Jack shushed, and Rhys sighed at the words, trying his best to relax himself as Jack stretched his thighs apart. “Daddy’s just going to prep you nice and good, okay?”

“That’s good- thank you, thank you so much, da- ah!”

Rhys’ babbling was cut off as he felt Jack push a finger inside him, slowly massaging his way upwards before Rhys felt Jack’s middle finger ease its way in too. Jack rubbed and scissored Rhys’ entrance with his digits, and the feeling of Jack’s heavy breathing next to his sensitive skin made Rhys so hard he felt weak at the knees. The brunette contemplated letting go of the bedframe – carding his hands through Jack’s hair and holding onto that with one hand while he touched himself with the other – but Rhys felt like his grip on the bed frame was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

Jack took Rhys’ mewls and moans as a signal to move onto the main event, so he removed his fingers slowly and gently – Jack knew that Rhys couldn’t handle too much roughness at once. Even so, the absence of Jack’s fingers made Rhys moan and beg to make him feel full again, and Jack managed a laugh at how desperate Rhys could be before giving in to Rhys’ pitiful requests, pushing the flat of his tongue against Rhys’ entrance.

“Oh my god, Jack! Please! That’s so good!” Rhys cried as he tried to move his hips down to take the thick appendage into him, but Jack brought his hands up to the slighter man’s hips, steadying him and locking him in place, just above Jack’s tongue.

“Please! I said, _please_! Pretty, pretty, pretty please!” Rhys begged incomprehensibly, already undone into a wrecked mess. Jack, on the other hand, took his tongue away from Rhys’ entrance to speak, arousal and amusement thick on his voice.

“Please, what?” He asked, expectantly waiting as Rhys whinged and begged wordlessly.

“I… I want you to eat me out, daddy! I want you to put your tongue in me! I want you to taste me…”

“ _Oh_ . _Right_ .” Jack drew out his words, smug as ever and very self-satisfied. Slowly, the older man allowed Rhys to feel his tongue against his entrance again until Rhys was loudly begging for more, and _finally_ , Jack slipped the tip of his tongue inside.

Rhys allowed his eyes to flutter shut as Jack took his time in tasting him, becoming so lost in the moment that he didn’t realise one of Jack’s hands drop from their position of holding Rhys’ hips in place. Jack trailed his hand down himself before he began rubbing at his neglected cock, pressing his thumb against his own tip – just like Rhys does – and he hummed in arousal, sending waves of shivers up through his tongue into Rhys’ body.

The hot wetness of Jack’s tongue inside of him was too much for Rhys as he rocked himself back and forth in time with Jack’s thrusts shakily, hands still latched onto the bed frame. Jack’s tongue was like nothing he’d ever given Rhys before – small yet precise and intimate, but still taking and using everything Rhys had.

Rhys didn’t last long before he was finishing, thin bursts of cum dripping from his untouched dick, and the shameless moan he let out as he did so sent Jack over the edge too. Rhys was shaking when Jack pulled his tongue away, and the sight of his pink, abused little hole made Jack glow with smugness.

“I feel like a teenager, cumming all over my goddamned palm.” The older man laughed, wiping his hand on the bedsheet before stroking Rhys’ legs gently to get him to calm down.

“Yeah…” Rhys agreed – although he probably had no idea what he was agreeing to – and that made Jack laugh more as he slowly pried Rhys downwards, so he was sitting on Jack’s chest.

“Hey, beautiful.” Jack smiled warmly. “Wanna hold my hand?”

Rhys hummed, and took Jack’s palm in his wordlessly, barely able to communicate as he came down from his high.

“You wanna know something, Rhys?” The older man questioned, and Rhys hummed at him again through drowsy eyes.

“We should do breakfast in bed every Saturday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaaahhhh thank you so much for reading, all views, kudos, comments, bookmarks and all that good stuff is HUGELY appreciated!! (ɔ ˘⌣˘)˘⌣˘ c) I love you guys, and ur continued support for this series is what makes me wanna write more!! 
> 
> if you're in the mood for somethin' fluffy and sfw now, MAY I RECOMMEND THE PUPPY AU?! http://archiveofourown.org/works/6287461
> 
> as always, feel free to drop me a message at http://supermagically.tumblr.com/ and I'll see you next update!! (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑


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